The One You Feed
by Kouri Arashi
Summary: Sequel to 'Coming Undone' and 'A Place We Call Home'. The alpha pack is in town, and they're not too happy with the way things are in Beacon Hills. Stiles may have to choose between his life and his pack.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This fic was inspired by the tag 'there is no lycan review board' used by moirariordan. Because there should be! Really!_

_In any case, this fic can best be summed up thusly: the alpha pack doesn't think a human can be an alpha. Shit goes down._

* * *

Chapter One

Stiles eyes are fixed on the clock in the chemistry classroom, which is not particularly unusual, but it has added weight today. It's the last day of school. He finished his final exam five minutes ago, although Scott and Isaac are both still scribbling. Lydia is examining her nails. Erica is popping her gum and occasionally filling out an answer; he hasn't been able to convince her to care about her grades very much. Allison is playing with her hair. Jackson is staring out the window. Stiles takes a minute to rejoice in the fact that he won't have to see Jackson for at least two months. There are eight minutes left of class. Eight agonizing, eternal minutes. Harris won't let them leave after they're finished, like almost all the other teachers do, and he won't let them take out their phones or books in case they're helping someone else cheat. In short, Harris is being a douche, and Stiles is buzzed on Adderall because an entire day of tests is something akin to the fifth level of hell for him.

He wants out of the room so badly he can taste it. The windows are shut, despite the fact that it's a gorgeous day, again because Harris is a douche. He doesn't like being in rooms with closed windows. He wants out, wants to go to Derek's and run in the woods, play lacrosse and just generally behave like a maniac. The full moon is approaching, and he's feeling the effects.

Finally, after an eternity, the bell rings. "Pencils down," Harris snaps, as if everyone wasn't already trying to flee the room, done with their test or not. Scott heaves a gusty sigh. He's managed to bring his grade up to a B minus, but he still has a lot riding on this final.

They turn in their papers as they file out of the room. Stiles looks directly at Harris, gives him a huge smile, and says, "You have a _great_ summer, Mr. Harris." He loves creeping the chemistry teacher out. It's one of the highlights of his day.

The pack congregates on the front steps of the school. Jackson shoulders past them, scowling on his way out to his sporty little car. Stiles is not at all perturbed by this, because he finds Jackson hilarious these days. The guy just doesn't take disappointment well. He and Scott have a private goal to become co-captains of the lacrosse team next year and unseat Jackson entirely. If they're lucky, his head will explode.

"So, what's going on this summer?" Erica asks, twining her fingers through Stiles' as they walk through the parking lot.

"I'm going to be working some extra hours," Scott says. "Dr. Deaton's going to put me on full shifts four days a week." He sounds excited, which is good. If they get his grades high enough, his dream of being a veterinarian isn't too far away. He's already the unofficial pack medic.

"I'm working, too," Isaac says. "Part-time doing construction down at the new elementary school they're building."

"Careful with a job like that," Stiles says. "Don't get too wolfy."

Isaac nods. "I'll be careful. What about you, are you working?"

"Psssh, no," Stiles says. "Got to enjoy these halcyon days of youth!"

"You know, originally," Lydia says, "halcyon days meant 'days without storms', so in saying that you've probably jinxed us for the entire summer."

"It can't be a jinx if I didn't know about it," Stiles says.

Lydia just raises her eyebrows at him.

"Aw, hell," Stiles mutters, slumping.

Allison clears her throat and says, "My dad is talking about taking a two-week trip to visit France in July," she says, "but other than that, I don't have any plans."

"That'll suck," Erica said. Allison nods and shrugs a little, because there's not much she can do about it. "Well, my goal for this summer is to seduce Stiles," she says.

"What are you going to do with the other twenty-three hours and fifty-eight minutes of the day?" Stiles asks, swinging their hands back and forth.

Erica laughs and bumps her hip against his. He slings his arm around her shoulders as they make their way over to his Jeep, which is parked next to Allison's car. "See you guys back at Derek's," he says, getting behind the wheel. Lydia climbs into the back. Scott and Isaac ride with Allison. There's the usual wait to get out of the school parking lot, and then they're home free.

The last day of school/first afternoon of summer demands celebration, and Lydia is very good at planning celebrations. She's already talked to her parents about having friends over that evening. Her mother is going on a day trip to Los Angeles and seemingly couldn't care less. Lydia's is the best place for a party because she has a pool. So does Derek's apartment complex, but it's always crowded with people. But Lydia's mother isn't leaving until six, so they've decided to hang out at Derek's for a little while first.

Scott and Isaac are always hungry, so they raid Derek's fridge and play Diablo and argue about who gets the controllers. They're so invested in it that they almost don't hear the knock on the door. Derek gets up from where he's sketching and goes over to answer it. The minute he opens it, Stiles fumbles and drops his controller, his head twisting around to see what's upset him so much.

The woman standing there is tall, with dusky skin and long dark hair. She's beautiful, gorgeous even, and carries the confident sexuality that only a werewolf carries. "Well, well," she says, in a low, throaty voice, almost a purr. "If it isn't baby Hale. It's been a while, Derek."

Derek's back is ramrod straight, but his voice is even. "Kali, isn't it?"

"You remembered." She gives him a toothy smile. She's flanked by two identical young men, strong and muscular, with dark blonde hair cropped short. Their faces are absolutely expressionless. "This is Ethan and Aiden," she adds, and they both give a quick nod. "But you aren't who I'm here to see, are you? I thought it would be you, but it isn't. Aren't you going to introduce me to your pack?"

Derek takes a breath, then lets it out. "Come in," he says, and shuts the door behind them. Even if his discomfort wasn't physically obvious, it's reverberating through the pack bond, putting all of them on edge. The television has been silenced, and everyone is standing now, in a loose V shape with Stiles at the front. Derek swallows; they can see his Adam's apple go up and down with the motion. "Kali," he says, with a note of formality to his voice, "this is my alpha, Stiles. Stiles, Kali. She's a part of the alpha pack."

"An alpha pack?" Stiles asks, clearly surprised. But he leans forward in cautious greeting, extending his hand, not sure if a wolf greeting or a human one would be appropriate.

"I'm the _leader_ of the alpha pack," Kali corrects, and Stiles feels Derek flinch. Kali leans in, pressing her cheek against his and inhaling deeply in a show of almost obscene intimacy, and then draws back. The look on her face is complex, and Stiles isn't sure what to make of it. Disgust? Anger? Confusion? Maybe some of all of them. She looks at Derek and says, "You've _got_ to be kidding."

Derek's jaw is so tight that it looks ready to shatter. "No," he says.

"That," Kali says pointedly, "is not an alpha."

There's a low growl to Stiles' left. It's Scott, who really doesn't sound happy with Kali's tone. Stiles doesn't need to look around to know that Allison's hand is on her bow. He's got to get a handle on this situation, fast, which is going to be difficult since he has no idea what's going on. "Somebody want to tell me what I'm missing here?"

"He doesn't even know," Kali says, disgusted.

"He doesn't know because I didn't tell him," Derek says. "Not everyone is born a wolf."

"Which would matter, if he was a wolf," Kali says. "But he's not." She shakes her head. "I'm beginning to think that the whole Hale family is just full of cowards. Laura chose to duck the trial on a technicality, and now I come all this way to find you licking the boots of some human _boy_ – "

She gestures sharply to Stiles, and his temper snaps. As her wrist comes within arm's length, he grabs it, twisting it around so suddenly that she's caught off balance and he's able to force her to the floor with it pinned behind her. She makes an outraged noise as Stiles digs his knee into her back, pressing her other hand against the floor to try to gain some leverage. "This human _boy_ trained with Gerard Argent," he snarls, "and I may not give a shit what you think of me, but you will _not_ walk into our den and start insulting my pack."

One of the twins takes a step forward, a low growl emanating from his throat. Before he can move further, Allison's got an arrow nocked and pointed right at his throat.

"Stiles," Derek says, his voice approaching panic, "you shouldn't – "

"Don't, Derek," Stiles says, his eyes flaring crimson. "Just don't."

Derek shuts up.

"Now," Stiles says, "how about someone tells me what the fuck is going on?"

Derek lets out a breath. "The alpha pack," he says slowly, "comes to evaluate a new alpha and decide whether or not they're worthy of the position."

"Okay," Stiles says. "Was that so hard?" He gets off Kali, letting her up.

She whirls on him. "You'll pay for that insult, boy."

"My name is Stiles," he says. "One syllable. It's not that hard. Try using it. So. You want to evaluate me or some shit like that? Okay, let's get it over with."

Now Kali's lips curve in a cruel smile. "You can't possibly pass the trials," she says. "They're designed for wolves."

"You'd be surprised what I can do with a little creativity," Stiles tells her. "So, this is like a basic quest? You give me goals to accomplish and if I can manage them, then I'm judged worthy and you guys get the hell off my territory? Is that how this works?"

"If you'd rather, I could just kill you now and save you the agony of failure," Kali suggests, her smile turning vicious.

"Sweet pea, I don't fail," Stiles says. "And I'm not afraid of you."

"You will be," she says, turns on one heel, and marches out of the apartment. The twins follow her silently. The door slams shut behind him.

"Man, I'd hate to see what she's like at certain times of the month," Stiles says. There's a ripple of nervous laughter, but the tension doesn't really ease out of the room. He turns to Derek, raises his eyebrows and says, "Okay, so, how about you start at the beginning?"

Derek, who's a little paler than usual, sits down on the floor with a heavy exhalation. After a minute, the others all sit too, arranging themselves in a loose circle. It takes Derek a minute to gather himself before saying, "I met Kali and her pack when I was a teenager. They came to evaluate Laura, who had just turned into an alpha upon the death of my parents. But they couldn't, because most of the tasks focus around an alpha and his or her pack. Laura didn't have a pack. She just had me. So as long as she never became a pack leader for real, they had to leave her alone."

"So that's what they meant by 'ducking the trial'," Lydia says.

Derek nods. "Laura didn't do it to get out of the trial. She didn't want a pack, for . . . for the same reason I didn't, for a long time. It . . . would have hurt too much. But Kali didn't really see it the same way. She wasn't the leader back then, just a part of the pack, but a mouthy bitch anyway."

"The entire pack is alphas?" Scott asks, and Derek nods. "Shit, that . . . that could be bad."

"Theoretically, they should play by the rules," Derek says. "If they were going to try to kill Stiles or fail him just for being human, they would have done it already. But they'll rig the trial against you. The leader has broad discretion in what sort of tasks she picks."

Stiles just shrugs a little.

"What . . . what happens if the alpha fails the trial?" Isaac asks hesitantly.

Derek lets out another breath. "The alpha is killed and the pack disbanded. I've heard rumors that they've killed entire packs, when they don't . . . handle the verdict well. Most of them do all right. Most packs aren't bonded as tightly as we are, so the loss of an alpha, while a big deal, isn't . . . isn't something that breaks them. They'll drift apart and find new packs to join."

"Shit, Derek, why didn't you warn us?" Scott asks.

"I had hoped they wouldn't notice Stiles because he's human," Derek says. "I didn't know what to do if they showed up, so I just . . . hoped they wouldn't."

"Would've been nice of them to show when Peter was alpha," Lydia says, a dry note of bitterness to her voice.

"As you can see, it can take them a while to get around to it," Derek says. "They travel the whole world. And sometimes alphas come and go so quickly because of internal pack struggles, that they don't rush to get to new ones."

"That's nice of them," Allison says, rolling her eyes slightly.

Stiles stands and stretches. "Well, hey, are we having a party tonight or what?" he asks. The others all stare at him. "What?" he asks. "Am I supposed to hide under the table and wait for them to go away? Fuck that. How long before I get the first task?"

"Probably a couple days," Derek says. "They'll let us stew that long."

"Okay. And we have no idea what it will be. So why worry about it?" Stiles sees their looks and says, "Guys, this is going to be okay. Because I am going to kick the ass of this stupid trial. I'm going to send that bitch running back home with her tail between her legs. And if they try to fail me?" He gives a little shrug. "Nobody is splitting us up. Period."

"There are seven alphas in the pack," Derek says quietly.

"Hey, cool," Stiles says. "One for each of us."

Derek just shakes his head. But Allison and Scott are both nodding. Erica looks like she's relaxing a little, and Isaac has taken a few deep breaths; he's evening out. Lydia looks just as unconcerned now as she did before the alphas showed up. Stiles kneels down in front of Derek and takes a hold of his chin, making Derek meet his gaze. "I play dirty," he says, "and I don't lose. Not when there's this much at stake. _Nobody_ is taking my pack from me."

After a moment, Derek nods. "Okay," he says, and leans into the circle of Stiles' arms.

"Okay," Stiles echoes. "Let's go have a fucking party."

* * *

Despite some initial resistance, they get into the party before long. They're teenagers, so if they can push the doom and gloom into the back of their minds, there's still pizza and caffeine and a pool party to be had. To Stiles, at least, there's something strangely exhilarating about the sword of Damocles currently hanging over their heads.

So they mess around in the pool and drink about a billion gallons of Coke and have contests over who can make the biggest splash or who can jump the furthest or which guy can look at Erica in her bikini for the longest without blinking. Derek is still brooding, of course, because that's what Derek does. Stiles lets it go. Eventually, if they have fun around him long enough, he'll get drawn in.

They eat and play Risk and make popcorn and watch X-Files reruns until they all fall asleep in a pile on the floor of Lydia's living room.

It's not a good night for any of them. Derek never wakes up from his nightmares, but grows restless, growling and kicking in his sleep. Stiles has to soothe him back into sleep multiple times, and finally wakes up gasping from one of his own bad dreams. It's dawn; he can see the dim light around the blinds on the door outside. He huddles underneath the blankets, curling loose fists into Derek's fur, and eventually dozes off.

He's still up first, which is good because Scott is supposed to be at work at eleven, and nobody thought to set an alarm. Lydia's house is one of the few places where he doesn't need to bring his own groceries. He makes a huge batch of scrambled eggs and French toast. The kitchen has an espresso maker, and he employs it. The smell gets everyone out of bed. Scott bitches cheerfully about how there isn't any bacon. Lydia says there's turkey bacon in the fridge, and he shuts up.

Derek is still quiet and unhappy, but everyone just tries to let that go, because he's Derek. The others talk about their summer plans until the food is gone, and then Stiles says, "Okay, I've got some things to do and people to see."

Erica immediately stands and says, "I'll go with you."

Stiles opens his mouth to protest, then looks around at the faces of his pack and realizes that resistance, as the Borg would say, is futile. "Okay," he says. "In fact, I'd prefer if none of us went out on our own for a while. Scott, you work today?" he asks, and Scott nods. "That's okay. You're probably safer at the clinic than anywhere else in the city. What about you, Isaac?"

Isaac takes a drink of his coffee and says, "Construction doesn't start for another two weeks. I'm free until then."

"Good." Stiles lets out a breath. "Anyone else have any obligations I should know about?"

Nobody does, at least for the next week.

"Okey dokey," Stiles says. "Allison, Lydia, if you could drive Scott to work and deliver him safely into the hands of Dr. Deaton, thank you. Scott, while you're there, see if he knows anything. Well," he corrects, because Dr. Deaton _always_ knows something, "see if he'll _tell us_ anything."

Scott nods. "Yeah, I'll see what I can do."

"Derek's apartment will be our home base during this," Stiles says, "because I'm not sure if they found us there by smell or werewolf senses or if they just looked Derek up in the phone book. Point being: they may not know where any of us live and I'd prefer to keep it that way, so if they're smelling us, let's keep ourselves located where they've already been. Once Allison and Lydia have dropped Scott off, everyone can head back there."

"Where are you going?" Derek asks him.

Stiles grimaces a little and says, "Down to the station to talk to my dad." He doesn't keep secrets from his father, not anymore, and he has a feeling that this is not going to stay small. His father will know sooner rather than later, so he might as well come clean and at least avoid a lecture on hiding things. "I'll meet you back at Derek's this afternoon."

Everyone is in agreement with this plan except Derek, who wants to go with Stiles. Stiles doesn't want him to because he wants Derek to stay with Isaac. Derek points out, reasonably enough, that Isaac could go with the girls when they drop off Scott. Stiles points out, also reasonably, that they only brought two cars from Derek's house, and Allison's car won't fit five people, at least not comfortably. Also, if Derek doesn't plan on letting him out of sight for the next week, they will throttle each other. Derek obviously wants to protest that he'll be fine on his own, but knows exactly how far that will get him, so he subsides, but grumpily. Isaac looks somewhat apprehensive about being left in his presence.

He's deep in thought, chewing on his lower lip, as he and Erica walk out to the Jeep. She's respectful of his silence. As much as she often just opens her mouth and lets whatever she's thinking fall out, she also knows how to be quiet. Of course, when Stiles takes an unexpected turn on the way to the station, she can't stay quiet through that. "Why are we going back to Derek's?"

"I need to get something," Stiles says.

"Uh huh." Erica seems unimpressed.

"It might not pan out," Stiles adds.

Since Stiles obviously doesn't want to talk about it, Erica doesn't ask any more questions.

They had left Derek's apartment not long after his tussle with Kali. He's hoping that the area is relatively undisturbed. Erica watches him in silence as he roots around in Derek's cupboard and comes out with a canister of cocoa. "Really?" she says. "You just had a hankering?"

Stiles ignores her, walking into the living room. "I was standing here," he murmurs, "so she went down here . . ." He leans down and begins to drop spoonfuls of cocoa onto the tile floor, blowing onto it to smooth it out. "Bingo!" he says.

Erica looks down. "Fingerprints?"

"Yep. Go see if Derek has any packing tape or anything like that in his art stuff." Stiles studies the patch of floor. Kali left an absolutely beautiful handprint, with four clear fingerprints, when she tried to lever herself up off the floor. It'll do for a start.

"Why bother?" Erica asks, tossing him a roll of tape.

"Because we don't know anything about these people," Stiles says, "and knowledge is power. Know the enemy. Sun Tzu said that."

"Sun Who?"

"No, Sun Tzu," Stiles says, grinning at her.

She lobs a cushion at his head.

He presses the piece of tape with its dusty cocoa-flavored fingerprints onto a stiff sheet of paper, also provided from Derek's art supplies. Then he wipes up the cocoa and they leave the apartment. It's only a short drive down to the station. "Hey, Sandy, is my dad in?" he asks, breezing past the front desk with Erica in tow.

"He's in his office," she calls after him, which is where he was headed anyway.

Sheriff Stilinski looks up when they come in. He looks a little surprised, and somewhat apprehensive, to see Stiles. "Hey, you. Hi, Erica."

"Hi, Papa Stilinski," she says.

"Got a sec?" Stiles asks, and his father just gives him one of those unimpressed looks over the rim of his reading glasses. "Right," Stiles says, and plunks his butt down into a chair. Erica sits down next to him, reaching over to twine her arm through his, and Stiles launches into the story. He downplays the encounter the tiniest bit, but doesn't leave anything out.

By the end of it, his father is frowning. "What sort of 'trials' do they put you through?" he asks.

"Beats me. I'm in information-gathering mode right now," Stiles says. "But I figured I would let you know what was up, and now I plan to call a bunch of people and pretend to be you."

Stilinski looks like he has a headache. "Son, if you need me to call people – "

"Two words, Dad: plausible deniability."

Those two words sit in the air between them for what feels like a long time. Sheriff Stilinski hates them, because they've had this conversation before. The conversation about how some of what Stiles does isn't exactly legal anymore, and he does what he has to do to protect his pack. The conversation about how he won't always tell his father about these things if he doesn't need to know, because if Stiles ever gets caught, he wants his father to keep his job. The conversation about how he doesn't know how long he can keep pretending that he's a normal teenager, that someday he and his pack might have to leave regular society and live on the fringes, the way most werewolves do.

And this isn't exactly their first rodeo, even discounting what had happened with Peter Hale and Gerard Argent. There had been another werewolf pack trying to take their territory not long after they had turned Erica. And not long after that, a group of faeries had moved in and started abducting children. Stiles and his pack had wound up working with Chris Argent and his guys to take care of them. Chris had not been particularly happy with this, but over the course of the misadventure, he and Stiles came to a rather grudging sort of understanding. Which is to say that he still hates Scott for sexing up his daughter, but is getting over the whole 'werewolf' thing. As much as he still very much lives by the code, he knows that Stiles isn't the enemy.

Finally, Sheriff Stilinski gets to his feet and says, "Well, I hear I have some sheriffing to do. Will I see you tonight?"

"Don't know. I'll text you. Can you have some fingerprints run for me?"

"Fingerprints?"

"Yeah. Of the head alpha."

"Okay." Stilinski ruffles his son's hair as he takes the sheet of paper from him and leaves his office. Stiles immediately goes around his desk and sets down his laptop. After several minutes of typing, he picks up the phone.

"This is illegal, you know," Erica says, pulling out her cell phone and preparing to occupy herself.

"What's a little class A misdemeanor between friends?" Stiles asks, dialing. There's a beat, and then he speaks again in a slightly lower pitch. "Yeah, hi, this is Sheriff Stilinski. I need to get your security cam footage for yesterday. Just the exterior cameras." There's a pause. "Uh huh. Okay. 'Preciate it."

"What do you want security cam footage for?" Erica asks, putting her feet up on the sheriff's desk.

"To find their car." Stiles starts whistling as he types away on his laptop.

"Why else," Erica says, amused. She shakes her head and goes back to her game. Stiles continues to type. "Won't that take a while?"

"It could, but it probably won't. Ah, here's the file." Stiles types in a few commands and begins to sort through the footage. "I'm guessing that they were going off their wolfy senses, not actual information. Which means that they would have parked in the lot closest to Derek's apartment. That's only monitored by . . ." Click, clack. "Two cameras. And I doubt they sat around waiting all day, so we know the approximate time that they showed up. Pulling up the footage to that point . . . and voila. There they are."

Erica gets up and leans over his shoulder to see the silver sports car pull into the lot. "What is it with wolves and sports cars?" she asks. "I gotta get me one of those."

"Work on getting your license first, babe," Stiles says. She sticks her tongue out at him. "Zooming in, and hey, a plate number!" He spun around to use his father's computer again, and two minutes later, has the car's information pulled up. "It's a rental. Cool."

Another five minutes later and the rental car company is faxing over the information. Stiles is grinning, enjoying himself now. Erica's not sure why. It's fun to watch Stiles in action, but she has no idea what he's trying to accomplish. So they rented a car. Big whoop. It doesn't tell them anything about the trials he's going to have to pass.

"So, Kali isn't the one who rented the car," Stiles says. "That was a guy . . . guy? . . . named Ravinder Chandrasekhar." He stumbles a little over the name.

"Yippee," Erica deadpans.

Stiles whistles to himself as he continues to type. Sandy sticks her head in a few minutes later. "Stiles, why are people faxing things to you?"

"Just chasing down a lead or two for my dad," Stiles says, with a guileless look that Sandy clearly does not believe for an instant. She hands over the sheet of paper, then a manila folder.

"The fingerprints," she says.

"Sweet! You're a doll." Stiles dives into the new information. "Check this _out_!" he says, and Erica leans over his shoulder to see what she assumes is a mug shot of Kali. It's hard to tell, thanks to the white flare coming off her eyes, obscuring the photograph almost completely. But Stiles isn't talking about the photograph; he's talking about the words next to the name. "Breaking and entering, harassment, assault, look at this list of priors . . ."

He turns back to his father's computer and pulls up the dossier. "A person of interest in two deaths," he continues, "never charged. Oh, check that out, both deaths were eventually ruled to be animal attacks. Hey, she's from California too. Last known address is in Los Angeles. She seems like that kind of gal . . ."

"Was she ever arrested?" Erica asks.

"Yeah, several times, but always for the minor charges. There are open warrants for her, though. That may come in handy if we really need to get her out of the way, if only for a little while. She skipped bail at least once, so there's probably a bail bondsman after her ass somewhere, too." Stiles hums to himself and clicks on 'known associates'. "Derek said she wasn't the . . . alpha-alpha?" He stops typing, baffled. "What do they call the alpha of the alpha pack?"

"How the hell should I know?" Erica asks.

"Could it be the alpha-alpha?" Stiles wrinkles his nose. "God, say that five times fast. Soon I'll just be calling her alfalfa."

Erica howls with laughter. "I double dog dare you to call her that to her face."

"Now, now, you're supposed to be encouraging me to behave responsibly." Stiles grins at her. "Okay, uh . . . let's just call her the alpha pack leader. APL for short. Everything always sounds more official with acronyms, right?"

"Right."

"So she wasn't the APL ten years ago when they went to test Laura. I bet it was this guy." He taps the screen, which is now displaying the mug shot of a young man with similar lens flare problem. All you can really see are his bulging arm muscles. "He's obviously a werewolf, and he's also dead."

"What killed him?" Erica asks.

Stiles pulls up the incident report. "Two bullets right to the chest."

"Can that kill an alpha?"

Stiles bites his lip. "Not sure. It could kill a beta, especially if it was large caliber. But I don't know about an alpha. If it was a hunter that got him, the bullets might have been laced with silver or wolfsbane. That would kill an alpha." He looks thoughtful for a minute. "If one werewolf kills another werewolf, is that an offense punishable by execution under the code?"

"Dunno," Erica says. "You want me to text Allison and ask her?"

"I'll ask her later," Stiles says. "Anyway, if they've killed entire packs, odds are good they've killed a human or two somewhere along the line. That would put them under the gun."

"So . . . where is this getting us?" Erica asks.

"You never know what'll come in handy," Stiles says, and Erica resists the urge to throw herself out the window. "Hey, you wanted to come with me. You only have yourself to . . . hello, what's this?"

He leaves her hanging. She's pretty sure it's deliberate. She lasts about four seconds before demanding, "What, what is it?"

"One of those charges about harassment against Kali? That was filed about nine years ago in New York City . . . by Laura Hale."

Erica blinks. "So . . . Kali _really_ didn't like her ducking the trial."

"So it would seem. But the charges were dropped, so there isn't a lot of detail. Let's see. Laura reported that she was getting constant phone calls from someone who was, er, 'interested in her' is how it reads in the file."

"She made it look like a stalker?"

"Well, it's hard to explain 'alpha werewolf pack' to the cops, so my guess is yeah. Threatening notes, being followed, et cetera . . . but then it seems like it suddenly stopped and Laura just dropped the charges when Kali couldn't be found. I bet the alpha pack moved on and dragged her ass with them."

"Why against Kali specifically, though?" Erica wonders. "Why not against the . . . the APL?"

"Kali might have been his enforcer," Stiles suggests. "Doing the dirty work. It seems likely that her pack standing was pretty high, since she's the pack leader now. Or it might have been personal. We won't find out unless we ask, I don't think. My bet is that even Derek doesn't know. I bet Laura shielded him from all that as much as possible."

"Nine years ago, he would've been . . ."

"Fifteen," Stiles answers absently.

"Damn," Erica says.

"Yeah," Stiles agrees.

"How much older was Laura?"

Stiles frowns. "I'm not sure exactly. I know she was at least three years older because she was a legal adult. She got custody of Derek after the fire. I think she might have been as much as five years older, but I'd have to ask Derek to be sure. He doesn't . . . talk about her much. And I could look stuff up about her, but . . . she's kind of the one topic I've never researched, you know? It's always seemed wrong somehow."

Erica gives a little nod. Stiles goes back to typing. "Funny thing, though, is that most of Kali's arrests or charges stem from, well, violence. Assault, assault and battery, B and E, assault . . . it's only when Laura got involved that she got these stalking complaints."

"So maybe it was personal," Erica suggests.

"Maybe," Stiles agrees. He taps the space bar idly a few times, thinking. Then he starts typing again. "This Ravinder guy doesn't seem to have a record. I'm guessing there aren't a lot of guys by that name in this country. So he's a dead end, unless . . ."

"Unless?" Erica prompts.

"Well, the car rental company sent over his payment information." Stiles holds up the fax. "So I have his credit card number. I could pull financials . . ."

"Can you do that?"

"If I can run fingerprints and get security cam footage, I can pull financials," Stiles says. "And I'd rather do that than try to hack his credit card by myself."

"You could call Danny."

"He was going on vacation to Hawaii; he may be gone already. Besides, I don't really want him involved in this. He's been teaching me some of the basics, but . . . nah, this'll be easier. Let me go chat with Sandy for a minute."

"If you say so," Erica says, thinking about how Sheriff Stilinski is probably going to have harsh words later about what exactly Stiles means when he says 'I'm going to make some phone calls and pretend to be you'. She does not think that his permission extended to pulling financial information on someone with no criminal record and, so far, no connection to any crime.

Stiles comes back with it a few minutes later. "Guess what," he says, grinning.

"What?" Erica asks.

"This credit card was used last night at the Plaza Inn in our sweet city of Beacon Hills."

Erica's eyes widen. "Oh _no_," she says.

"Oh, _yes_," Stiles says with a triumphant smile. "Let's go pay the alpha pack a surprise visit."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: So here's where I basically started inventing a bunch of characters to make up the alpha pack. Let's face it, we really don't know a lot about them yet. Hopefully you'll enjoy these guys as much as I do. :)_

* * *

Chapter Two

Stiles and Erica argue for almost the entire drive to the Plaza Inn. Erica wants to know what the hell he thinks he's doing. Stiles says that it's the perfect opening gambit. "Everything yesterday went all wrong," he says. "And we only met three members of the pack, two of which seemed to be identical robots. Kali went back and told them all what a wuss I was. I need to make a different impression, stat. And this is something that will _never_ see coming. People _run_ from this trial. They don't show up the next day to say 'how do you do'."

"There's a reason for that!" Erica protests. "Shouldn't we at least go get the others?"

"No," Stiles says. "We can't bring Derek in. He . . ." Stiles clenches his jaw down on the words. "He's a liability right now. You know it as well as I do. If he's there, it'll all be about him, and no one will even look at me. It's better if it's just the two of us."

Erica doesn't like it; in fact, she hates it, but Stiles is her alpha and to a certain extent she's now hard-wired to do what he says. So she stops arguing for the rest of the drive.

"This isn't exactly what I anticipated," Erica says, as they pull the Jeep in a few spaces down from the silver sports car. The Plaza Inn is a cheap hotel, one of those 'America's Best Value' franchise places. The parking lot is small and some of the spaces are crooked. It looks clean, though, well-kept and tightly put together.

"I bet they said the same thing about Derek's apartment complex," Stiles says, getting out of the Jeep. He inhales deeply, filling his nose with the scent of asphalt, disinfectant from the maid's cart, and chlorine from the pool. And the faintest hint of something other, something wolf. He heads down the row of doors.

"How are we going to know which it is?" Erica asks.

"We can't, not for sure," Stiles says, scanning the windows. "But I'm going to guess that one," he adds, pointing to the one on the very end.

Erica looks at it and sees the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door. "Seems like a good guess to me."

"Watch my back," Stiles tells her, as he knocks.

"Always," she says, with a tight smile.

The door swings open several long moments later, and the overwhelming scent of wolf, of power, of _alpha_, greets them. Stiles is hard pressed not to take a step backwards, and he hears Erica's quick intake of breath. For all that, the man who opens the door is fairly unremarkable. Middle-aged, although lean and fit, with dark skin and eyes, black hair that reaches his chin in a rather unfashionable style. His eyes widen fractionally to see them, but then he gives them a nod. "You must be Stiles," he says, in a clipped, British accent.

"That would be me," Stiles says. "I thought I'd come introduce myself. Things didn't go so well yesterday. We got off on the wrong foot."

The man studies him for a long moment, then says, "Are you armed?"

"To the teeth," Stiles says comfortably. This is true. He doesn't typically carry weapons around, but they made a stop at his house so he could pick up a pair of knives and the .38 that his father got him for his birthday.

Now the alpha grins, showing teeth. "Good for you," he says, and steps back to let them in. "My name is Ravinder Chandrasekhar. It's a pleasure."

Stiles walks into the hotel room with Erica right behind him, her hand locked around his elbow in a protective gesture. His eyes flick around, gauging the situation. There are four other people in the room, and one wolf, which makes six total. Only Kali is not present, which is something of a relief. The room is large for a double, and something of a mess. The mattresses have been pushed up against one wall, and a nest of blankets and cushions has been made, so the alpha pack, like Stiles' own, prefers to sleep in a wolf pile. It makes them a little less frightening, somehow. The empty pizza boxes and beer cartons stacked on top of the trash can help with that impression, too.

The twins are perched on the bathroom counter, and their jaws sag in perfect unison when he walks in. "What – what the hell are you doing here?" one of them sputters. "Do you have any idea what Kali would do?"

Stiles smirks at them. "Hey, you actually have a personality. I honestly wouldn't have guessed that."

Ravinder lets out the smallest chuckle. "You've met Aiden and Ethan already. To your left there is Mei," he indicates a young Chinese woman with delicate features, "and the wolf is Justin, and beside him is Yasmin." Justin is a large grey wolf curled up in the corner of the room; Yasmin is lying down with her head resting against his flank. Everyone present appears to be in their mid-twenties to early thirties; Ravinder is the oldest of the group by at least a decade.

"Nice to meet you," Stiles says. "This is Erica."

Ravinder leans forward to touch his cheek against Erica's in the usual wolf greeting, then says with interest, "She is your lupa?"

"My what?" Stiles asks, blank. That's not a term he's run across before.

There's a chorus of sniggers from the assembled alphas. Ravinder ignores them, remains polite, and clarifies, "Your mate."

"Oh, no," Stiles says. "She's my bodyguard."

There are more sniggers, and Aiden says, "You brought a bodyguard, really?"

"Hell, yeah, I brought a bodyguard," Stiles says. "I'm walking into a hotel with seven – or six, as it turns out – alphas, none of whom have any reason to like me. I should've brought an army. Anyway, it's not like my pack is going to let me go anywhere by myself while you guys are in town."

"So it would seem," Yasmin says, with laughter in her voice.

Ravinder gives them all a sharp look and says, "The role of the alpha is to protect their pack, and the role of the pack is to protect their alpha. If they weren't insisting on accompanying him, it would mean that his welfare is no concern of theirs. That would not be an indication of a good alpha. As you all well know."

Yasmin at least has the good grace to duck her head and look ashamed. The twins scowl. Justin tilts his head to one side in a show of curiosity, and Mei continues to look neutral.

"It's okay," Stiles says, "I bet Kali was talking shit about me all night."

"Actually, Kali would not allow us to speak of you at all." Ravinder's lips twitch slightly. "Which was a great disappointment to us. Your singular disposition has caused some . . . curiosity. How is it that a human can possibly become the alpha of a pack?"

Stiles folds his arms over his chest and says, "I'll make a deal with you, Ravinder. For every question I answer about my 'singular disposition', you answer one about your pack and these trials."

"A game of questions," Ravinder says, and nods approvingly. "A fair proposition. I accept."

"Okay!" Stiles rubs his hands together. "If a human is part of a wolf pack – bonded in, that is – and he kills the alpha of that pack, then he becomes the alpha, despite being human."

"Fascinating," Ravinder murmurs. "I don't believe that's ever happened before."

"We couldn't find any other documented instances," Stiles agrees. "So, these trials. How many of them are there?"

"It depends," Ravinder says. "Typically, three or four. If no decision has been made, it will sometimes stretch on longer, or if the wolf performs excessively well or miserably, it can be shorter. I've seen trials end after one task, and stretch on for as many as seven. But three or four is the norm. From start to finish, it generally takes about a week. Two at the most. How is it that you, a human, managed to kill an alpha wolf?"

"I played dirty and stuck him with wolfsbane while he was down," Stiles says. This is greeted by a growl from both Justin and, surprisingly, Mei. They seem to think that this is cheating. "When will I get the first trial?"

"Probably two days. It will take Kali that long to come up with something she considers suitably torturous," Ravinder says. "Why did you kill your previous alpha?"

"Because he killed Laura Hale," Stiles says. At this, there's a ripple of shock. It's obvious on the faces of Yasmin and Mei, the way Justin's head rises with his ears pricked forward, and from Ravinder's sharp intake of breath. "He turned my friend Scott and called him out against his will. He turned my friend Lydia, also against her will. In short, I killed that son of a bitch because he deserved it."

"Laura Hale is dead," Ravinder says quietly. "That explains quite a bit about how Derek reacted to Kali's presence."

Stiles has more questions about the trial, but this concerns Derek's welfare, and that comes first. "Fill me in?"

"When we approached Laura, almost ten years ago now, we offered to let her join the alpha pack," Ravinder says. "Laura refused."

"Because that would have left Derek omega," Stiles says.

"Yes. For that exact reason. Now Derek finally has a new pack. His sister has been killed. And here we show up again . . ."

"And he thinks you're going to take his new alpha away," Stiles concludes. He mulls this over for a minute, considering how to react to it. He thinks of the stalking and harassment complaints. Kali did not take rejection well, it seems. Then he shrugs. "Well, that's not gonna happen. Your turn."

"Why is it that Derek did not kill this alpha who murdered his sister?"

"Bad timing and lousy circumstances," Stiles says. "He was being held captive by the Argents, and tortured for having killed one of them. They wouldn't kill him, because they didn't want us to have a new alpha. Nobody in our pack could get to him except me. See, I was undercover, training with the Argents at the time, to learn about their techniques to keep the pack safe."

"You were undercover with the motherfucking Argents?" Yasmin blurts out. "Are you _insane_?"

Stiles gives her a cold, hard look. "I do what I have to, to protect my pack," he says. "If you want to call that insanity, go right ahead."

Nobody in the alpha pack seems to know what to say to that statement, not even Ravinder. Finally, he clears his throat and says, "It is your turn."

"Great. Kali doesn't seem to like me much. Is she the sole decision maker? Like, if she's already turned against me, do I have any chance of passing at all?"

Ravinder gives a little nod and says, "As our leader, she decides alone whether a new alpha passes or fails the trial. Our job is to facilitate the tasks themselves. However, if the entire pack is unanimous against her decision, then we can override it."

"So, she gets five votes, and the rest of you each get one," Stiles says.

"It could be put that way."

"So, if I impress the fuck out of the rest of you, it doesn't matter what Kali thinks of me."

Ravinder's lips twitch. "It could be put that way."

"Is she going to rig the trials against me?" Stiles asks, and Ravinder raises his eyebrows. "Don't give me that look; it's still my turn. Yasmin asked if I was insane, and I answered. So. Is Kali going to rig the trials against me?"

"Yes," Ravinder says, "undoubtedly."

"Awesome. Your turn."

"Your pack. They truly bow to your will?"

Stiles gives a shrug. "I'm not exactly Josef Stalin. I don't force them to do things they don't want to do, so it's never really come up in that sort of way. But they all accepted me as their alpha. I gave them a choice, after I killed Peter. And they all did. Even Derek."

"Why?"

"You'd have to ask them," Stiles says. "Are there any rules or guidelines that I should but don't know about?"

Ravinder looks amused at this question. "Yes, absolutely. For one thing, you won't always know when you're being tested. You may be put in a situation to see how you react, and your reaction will determine the outcome of the test. Even after the test is over, you may not realize it happened unless you're told. Secondarily, your control of your pack will be constantly tested. During the trials, both packs are to maintain a truce. This is necessary because the alpha can be somewhat . . . abused, during these trials. Sometimes their wolves don't take it well. If they attack any of our wolves, it is a sign that the alpha being tested does not have control over his pack."

Stiles narrows his eyes. "So you're not allowed to attack us either, right?"

"Unless directly ordered to by Kali as part of a trial, that would be correct," Ravinder says. "Should there be a tussle, whoever draws blood first loses. The only people who are allowed to draw blood are you and Kali, and even then, only against each other."

"Great," Stiles says, thinking all this over. He'll have to keep that in mind. Erica and Isaac are both relatively new wolves, and they don't always have the best control over their impulses, particularly when threatened. As for Derek, if he gets through this entire ordeal without losing his shit at least once, it will be a miracle. He makes some mental notes about things he will need to do to prepare for this inevitability.

"I have no more questions for you, at least not at this moment," Ravinder says. "Your story is an interesting one. I look forward to your trial, however . . ." He's quiet for a long minute, clearly deep in thought. "There is one thing I wish you to understand. Kali is going to kill you."

Stiles can't help but feel a chill go up his spine at this matter-of-fact statement. "Oh really."

"Yes." Ravinder nods, his dark eyes studying Stiles thoughtfully. "She will either do it through a trial you cannot possibly survive, or she will fail you and rip you apart. The only thing that may change is how long she tortures you with tasks beforehand. You are going to die during this trial. However, you have another option open. You can forfeit."

"Forfeit?" Stiles asks, surprised. "How does that work?"

"Forfeit the trial, and your position will be stripped," Ravinder says. "Admittedly, it's not something that has been done with a human alpha before, so I'm not quite sure how it would work. With a regular alpha, the are . . ." He shakes his head slightly. "There isn't a good word for it. 'Revoked', I suppose, would work. They are made human again."

"You can _do_ that?" Stiles asks, startled. "Damn, that would have been really handy, say, eight months ago. It's a little late for it now, though."

Ravinder gives a little nod and says, "Your betas would keep their status, but would be disbanded. You would lose your pack. But you would survive."

Stiles thinks best about how to answer this offer. He thinks long and hard. Finally, he looks Ravinder right in the eyes and says, deliberately, "Fuck that."

"You are sure?" Ravinder asks.

Stiles nods. "Yes, I'm sure."

Now Ravinder smiles again. "Then congratulations. You have passed the first test."

Stiles feels sweat pop out on his forehead. "You . . . that was all bullshit, wasn't it."

"There is no known cure for the bite," Ravinder agrees. "Not even we hold that power. If you had chosen life over your pack, you truly would have forfeited . . . but not in the way I was offering."

"Good thing I'm fucking nuts, then," Stiles says. "But I guess you did warn me that I wouldn't always know when I was being tested."

"Indeed." Ravinder tilts his head to one side. "Kali will be returning soon," he says. "She is not good at being cooped up like this, and often goes for a midday run by herself, despite the fact that caution would suggest against it. And your pack is probably wondering where you are. We'll see each other again soon."

"Can I ask one last question?" Stiles asks. "Just a freebie? It's not about the trial."

"You can always ask," Ravinder says.

"Who's really in charge of this pack? You or Kali?"

Ravinder's smile widens. "The leader of the pack is typically chosen by seniority. I, however, have passed on that role several times now. I prefer to be an observer. I have been in the pack almost twice as long as she has. But she is the leader. She will choose the trials, and she will decide your fate." He opens the door back to the parking lot. "Until next time, Stiles."

* * *

Erica texts Derek to see if anyone's gotten anything for lunch, since it's now nearly one o'clock in the afternoon. Nobody has, although that hasn't stopped Isaac from eating most of what's in the refrigerator, so they stop by the grocery store. Stiles grabs a couple of the rotisserie chickens, two loaves of Italian bread, a few bags of salad, and a twelve pack of soda. Even he's allowed to cheat sometimes.

Of course, he's well aware that the offering of food will go completely unnoticed as soon as he steps into Derek's apartment. He is one hundred percent correct. He walks in smelling like alphas and strange hotel rooms, and it's really a surprise that Derek doesn't immediately start throttling him. He reacts a little differently, jerking away from Stiles when he goes forward to give him the typical hug of greeting.

"Dude, where've you been?" Isaac asks, already taking the grocery bags from him. He gets a whiff of Stiles and blinks at him.

"Oh my God, Stiles." Lydia looks like she feels a migraine coming on. "You're not serious."

Stiles lifts his hands in surrender and says, "Yes, okay, I went to pay the alpha pack a visit. Look, here I am, whole and unharmed. Not even scratched."

"You do _know_ that Scott's at work and not here to stop Derek from killing you, right?" Allison asks, her hands tightening on the back of the chair she's been leaning on.

"Hey, I didn't go alone," Stiles says, "I brought Erica. Don't I get any points for that?"

Lydia takes a deep breath. "Okay," she says. "We're going to start this over. You're going to go back to where you decided to be all nonchalant about this and treat _us_ like we're unreasonable for being upset. You're going to remember that you're not nine years old, and you're going to decide to go about this in a different manner. Is that understood?"

Stiles grimaces. When even _Lydia_ is this pissed at him, he really is in trouble. "Okay," he says. "I should have told you guys before I went."

"Better," Lydia says.

"But still not great," Isaac states.

"I'm not going to say I shouldn't have gone," Stiles says. "Yes, it was a risk. It was a _calculated_ risk, and you guys probably all recall that I take those on occasion. It worked. I dug myself out of the hole I put myself in yesterday, and I got some valuable information about these trials. They weren't going to kill me outright. Kali doesn't want me dead until she's dragged my ass through the mud. I was perfectly safe."

Lydia sighs. Allison pushes both her hands through her hair. Isaac looks around, shrugs, and then opens the grocery bags and starts pulling out the food. "So are you going to share what you learned, or what?"

"Yeah, in a sec," Stiles says. He turns to Derek, frowning slightly. The older man is leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, his jaw firmly set in that awful brooding expression. "Okay, let me have it," he says. "I'm ready. Give me both barrels. You won't feel better until you've gotten it out of your system."

Derek just stares at him for a long minute before snarling out, "Why the fuck should I bother? You'll just do what you want anyway." He shoulders past Stiles and leaves the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Stiles flinches. "Ah, fuck," he says. "I fucked this one up, didn't I."

"Big time," Lydia says.

"Think I should go after him or give him time to cool off?" Stiles says.

"Derek _doesn't_ cool off," Allison says. "He just stews."

"Right." Stiles turns and heads out of the apartment. Erica starts to follow him, but he shakes his head. "Not this time," he says. "I'll be all right. They won't do anything today, we know that."

Erica reluctantly subsides. "Be careful," he says.

"Don't worry," Stiles says, "if I even stub my toe on a rock, Derek will rip it to shreds." With that, he jogs off. Derek's already far ahead of him, but Stiles knows where he's heading. The apartment complex borders on the woods, and that's undoubtedly where Derek will go. So he leaves the building and goes across the parking lot. On the upside, he isn't finding Derek's clothes, which means that he hasn't shifted. Derek has a tendency to go into full wolf form when there are conversations he wants to avoid.

He doesn't see Derek anywhere, but he doesn't need to. The anguish and rage he can feel through the pack bond lead him on like a beacon. He can always feel Derek's emotions much more strongly than anybody else's. He's never really been sure why. He always thought it would be Scott, who he knows so much better, but then Scott doesn't _feel_ with the same intensity that Derek does. He doesn't hurt the same way. Derek's actions and words are always laced with that layer of pain, which Stiles desperately wishes he could sweep away.

Lupa. It's a new word, one he hasn't heard before. He didn't know that the alpha's mate had a specific position in pack hierarchy. It would make sense, though. He doesn't feel romantic about Derek, not in the slightest, but he knows with certainty that he could never live without him. At first he had thought of their relationship as 'pack mommy and daddy', almost an arranged marriage of sorts. He was the alpha, but Derek was _supposed_ to be the alpha – in Stiles' mind, anyway – so that gave him a special position.

But he has to admit that there might be more to it than that. He's not in love with Derek, he doesn't think, and although the other man has a damned fine body, it doesn't really interest Stiles. And he suspects, although he's never asked, that Derek is similarly non-interested. That in fact, Stiles' non-interest is one of the things that makes him _safe_. Stiles has never talked to Derek about what Kate Argent did – or how young he was when she did it – but he knows that it left scars on Derek that he can't possibly understand.

None of which is particularly important at the moment, but he makes a mental note to ask Derek later, when things are calmer, about this whole lupa thing and what it might mean. For now he's got bigger problems. He finds Derek inside the Hale house, which is exactly where he knew he would find him. Now he has shifted into his full wolf form, curled up in a corner, and Stiles curses a little. He sits down next to Derek on the charred wood floor. He doesn't know where to start. He's not wrong, wasn't wrong, but at the same time Derek's not wrong to be upset.

For a long time, they just sit. Derek won't even look at him, let alone get close to him. "Look," Stiles finally says, "I'm sorry that I upset you. But you aren't _rational_ right now. I know that _you_ know that I can take care of myself. And that you've actually been getting a lot better about keeping a chokehold on me lately. But what I don't know is what happened when they tried to recruit Laura. I know that police reports were filed and that they didn't want to let her go. I've put that much together. And I know you think that I should have brought you with me today, but I _couldn't_, Derek, because wolves smell fear. And you . . . you are so scared right now. I'm sorry to have to shove that in your face, but it's true."

Derek lays his ears back, snarling slightly, but then slumps. Stiles pulls his knees up to his chest and sighs. He hates this place. He hates being here. He hates that Derek won't admit they should bulldoze the whole damned thing. The fact that he's talked about building a new house elsewhere on the land is amazing in and of itself, but this place, standing here, it haunts all of them. He knows that it's Derek's memorial to his family, that he's not ready to let it go, but he wants to give them a _real_ memorial. Not this hollow, burned-out husk of a building.

"I was careful," he finally said. "I went armed. I made it clear to them that I was armed. Erica had my back. All we did was talk. Kali wasn't there, so we lucked out a bit, I guess. I _needed_ to go, Derek. If I didn't clear up the misconceptions from yesterday, they were going to flunk me before the trials even started."

Derek just lets out a sigh. But he shuffles a little closer. Stiles reaches out and runs a soothing hand through his fur. "We are going to make it through this," he says. "No one is taking my pack from me. Okay?"

After a minute, Derek gives a nod. He rises to his feet. Stiles can sense the tension in him, the need to move, the need to _run_. So he gets up as well. They move through the forest for a while, not talking. Stiles has some increased speed from being the alpha, although the effect to his endurance is more pronounced. Derek knows how fast he can be and measures his own pace to match. They chase squirrels and enjoy the summer breeze and just don't think for a while.

Finally, they make it back to the house, and Derek shifts back into his human form and gets dressed. "Kali is from the Steele family," he says, without looking at Stiles. "They're another old, longstanding werewolf family. She and Laura knew each other from school. Our parents sent us to boarding school, you knew that. Kali and Laura were friends there. I don't know when or how Kali became an alpha. Some families just produce more than others. It has to do with the . . . the structure of the family, and the personality of the wolf. Laura probably would have been an alpha in due time, even if my family hadn't been killed."

They start walking back to the apartment complex, and Derek continues. "Kali joined the alpha pack when she was pretty young. She was a couple years older than Laura. Laura was twenty-one when our family was killed." He shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunching. "If Laura had agreed to become part of the alpha pack, they would have foregone the trial on Kali's recommendation. But Laura didn't want to leave me by myself, and the alpha pack wouldn't agree to take me, even as a beta. So Laura said 'thanks but no thanks'. Kali threatened . . . a lot of things. To kill her, or to kill me. Laura filed the police report when Kali wouldn't leave us alone. She hoped that she would get the message, that it wasn't going to happen. But Kali just got angry. She broke into the apartment while Laura wasn't there and told me that I had better talk Laura into joining. Convince her that I would be okay on my own. Or else.

"I tried, but Laura was way too smart to fall for that, because she knew it was all bullshit. I got upset and told her what Kali had said. I . . . I had never seen Laura so angry. She told me that she would take care of it, and she left the apartment. I don't have any idea what went down between her and the alpha pack . . . but I never saw Kali again. Not until yesterday."

Stiles wishes, not for the first time, that he could have met Derek's sister. She sounds like such an amazing person. He also wishes that they had treated her body, and her murder, with more respect. But there's no use crying over spilled milk. "Well," he finally says, "we've got a little breathing room to figure out what we want to do. The first task will be easy."

At this, Derek finally looks at him. "How do you figure?"

"Kali doesn't just want to fail me. She wants to _humiliate_ me. So she'll make the first task something ridiculously simple, thinking I won't be able to do it, so it'll sting worse when I can't."

"For all we know, the first task could be 'shift into wolf form'."

"It could be." Stiles shrugs. "But I don't think so. She does have to answer to the rest of her pack when all this is said and done."

Derek just sighs. They've reached the parking lot. "I just hope that whatever you learned was worth it."

* * *

At five o'clock, Allison leaves to go pick up Scott. Stiles volunteers to go with her after she gives him a quick little glance. Once they're out in the Jeep, he says, "What's up?"

Allison's quiet for a second, then says, "Stiles, I think we should tell my father about the alpha pack."

This isn't the first time they've had this discussion. In fact, it had turned into an argument when the pack had showed up to try to take over their territory. Stiles didn't want the Argent family to know because he didn't want Chris thinking it was okay to hunt werewolves in his territory. Allison had argued that they had agreed to be transparent with her father. Stiles had not concurred. "_He_ has to be transparent with us," he said. "It's not a mutual thing. We won that fight. There's only so many concessions that I made."

In the end, they had settled it democratically. Stiles wasn't comfortable forcing his decision on Allison as alpha, so they put it to a vote. Scott had sided with Allison – naturally – but everyone else had sided with Stiles. Derek had been asked to abstain, since his judgment around the Argents wasn't always impartial, and had agreed. Allison still might have told her father if it had gotten out of hand, but fortunately, the problem had been taken of fairly quickly and quietly.

When the faeries had come to town, both Chris Argent and Stiles' pack had been tackling it from separate angles. They had wound up meeting somewhere in the middle, and Stiles had agreed that they should work together. Allison had been relieved at this decision, but she's apprehensive now about asking Stiles since this is werewolf business.

Much to her surprise, Stiles gives a quick nod. "I figured you would."

"You're okay with that?" she asks.

"I don't think your dad is stupid enough to take on an entire pack of alphas," Stiles says. "But yeah, he should know they're in town. We don't know what's going to be involved in these trials, but odds seem good that they'll do _something_ that'll get his attention."

"True," she says. "Thanks."

"Make sure he understands that we're handling it, though," Stiles says, "and that I don't want him interfering unless things get _really_ out of hand."

Allison nods and pulls up outside the clinic. Scott jogs out and jumps into the backseat, leaning over to give Allison a kiss. That lasts several minutes before they pull apart, and Stiles begins filling him in on what he missed during the day. "Did Dr. Deaton have anything helpful to say?" he asks.

Scott shakes his head. "He just said to be careful. And, uh, that he'll understand if I have to miss some work."

"Real useful," Stiles says.

"Well, I'm glad I won't lose my job, at least . . ."

Allison's phone makes a buzzing noise, and she pulls it out of her pocket. She wrinkles her nose and says, "My dad wants me to come home. He says we have company."

"I'll drop you off on our way to Derek's, then," Stiles says. "Don't go anywhere without your dad, though. He'll keep you safe as houses."

She lets out a sigh. "Okay." Like any member of the pack, she doesn't like sleeping by herself, although it's not quite as bad for her as it is for the others since she's not an actual wolf. Her mother has insisted that she spend some nights at home. Lydia will often come over and spend the night at her house when that happens, much to Victoria's annoyance. She doesn't understand the way the pack bond influences behavior, and none of them are anxious to explain it to her.

It takes Stiles almost the entire drive to tell Scott about everything he had learned from Ravinder. He's already explained it to the rest of the pack, stressing the rules Ravinder had given him and the fact that they weren't allowed to attack the alpha wolves even if they were being nasty. He lets Scott and Allison say goodbye on the relative privacy of the front porch, and then claps Scott on the shoulder. "You'll see her tomorrow, Romeo."

"Yeah," Scott says, and just sighs.

Nobody wants to just sit around at Derek's and wait for the other shoe to drop, so they debate different plans for the evening. They talk about going to a movie, but Stiles doesn't want to have to turn his phone off in case Allison or his father needs to get in touch with him. Erica suggests ice skating – she knows a guy at the rink who might be able to get them in at a discount. They've talked about Boyd before, actually; he's a loner, and she's suggested that he might be a good person to bring into the pack. The group had invited him over to sit with them at lunch a few times. There was no instant click the way there was with Isaac or Erica, but he seems like a nice guy, so Stiles has been thinking about it. He's certainly not going to do anything about it now; things are complicated enough.

In any case, Scott doesn't want to go ice-skating without Allison since she loves to go, so that's out. Isaac suggests they just go out into the woods and play some lacrosse. Derek asks if playing lacrosse is all they ever do. Since 'yes' obviously isn't the answer he's going for, Stiles suggests going to the arcade. Lydia scoffs at this suggestion.

This is the point in the evening when normally they would break into groups to do separate things. They're pack, they're family; they're not identical. There are plenty of nights when Derek just wants to sketch by himself, or Stiles and Scott are wrapped up in playing whatever new video game has just come out, or Lydia and Allison are watching some chick flick that nobody else wants to see.

Unfortunately, nobody feels comfortable splitting up in the current circumstances. They finally decide to rent a couple movies, make popcorn, and try to make the best of a bad situation. Since getting the six of them to agree on a movie is virtually impossible, Erica and Isaac are dispatched to the video store and told to get whatever the clerk recommends from the new releases.

They've just gotten back when Stiles' phone rings. He glances down to see that it's Allison, which is surprising since under normal circumstances she would call Scott. "It's Allison," he says, and sees Scott frown, and Derek lean forward. He puts it on speaker so they can all hear the conversation. "Hey, you. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Allison says from the other end. "But there are hunters here."

"Hunters?" Stiles asks, and sees Derek's posture stiffen. "Argents?"

"No," Allison says. "I don't think so. My dad hasn't said much. I've been trying to sneak around and listen in, but . . ."

"This is the 'company' your dad was talking about?" Scott asks, his brow furrowing in worry.

"Yeah," Allison says. "I guess he wanted me to come home because he thought we'd be eating dinner together, but then they decided to go out and scope out the woods and everything. I think they're here because of the alpha pack, but I'm not sure."

"That would make sense," Stiles says. "We know the previous APL was killed by hunters. Or at least we suspect."

"They're staying at your house?" Scott asks.

"Yeah. They've camped out down in the basement," Allison says, and Stiles shudders. He does not have fond memories of the Argent's basement. "It's like a military camp down there, everything's so precise. There are only five of them, so I guess they fit okay. My father said it's customary to contact the local hunters for information, who are then expected to extend hospitality."

"Interesting," Stiles says, with a glint in his eye that nobody present is happy to see.

"Look, I've gotta go," Allison says. "Dad wants me to come downstairs and help my mom clean up in the kitchen. He's all in a snit because she made dinner and then they didn't eat, so I don't want to piss him off right now. But I'll keep you guys posted."

"Okay," Stiles says. "Thanks, Allison."

"Love you, guys. Love you, Scott."

"Love you too," Scott says, as Stiles pretends to gag. He hangs up the phone and Scott punches him in the shoulder. "Is this okay?" he asks, anxiety written all over his face.

Stiles isn't sure. He's sitting with his knees tucked up to his chest, thinking it over. He doesn't like the idea of leaving Allison on her own in a house full of hunters. Instinct says to send Lydia or Erica over. They've spent the night there before. Chris doesn't mind them so much because he can pretend it's just girls having a slumber party, and it's a good way to get Allison to stay at home.

But while he doesn't like the idea of Allison in a house full of hunters, he _loathes_ the idea of Erica or Lydia in a house full of hunters. Most hunters – not all, but most – would never touch Allison because she's human. And despite the tension between them, Stiles knows he can absolutely trust Chris Argent to burn down the world if it would keep his daughter safe. Chris will protect Allison – but he might or might not protect Lydia and Erica.

So finally, although he doesn't like it, Stiles says, "Yeah. Allison will be okay. The rest of us are going to stick together. This just adds complexity to things, and I don't like it. But it also affords us an opportunity . . ."

Derek sighs. "I'm not sure I want to hear this."

"It's by far not the craziest or stupidest idea I've ever had," Stiles assures him.

"Now I _know_ I don't want to hear this."

"Too bad," Stiles says. "Gather 'round, children, and I will tell you my plan . . ."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Okay, more characters are introduced here. Plus I make some stuff up about hunters in general. Take notes! And forgive me for making this so complicated. I am the worst sort of person._

Chapter Three

Stiles and Isaac drive Scott to work the next morning at eight. Stiles is up anyway, and he rousts Isaac out of bed to go with him because a) Isaac is the least likely to complain about being woken, and b) he doesn't want to listen to anyone bitching if he goes by himself. He was already up. Restless sleep is still a problem for him, and likely always will be. He's never been particularly good about sticking to a set sleep schedule, and the copious amounts of Adderall he takes only mess his natural rhythms up further. Since the incident with Peter Hale, it's been common for him to go to bed late, wake up too early, or just not sleep at all. His father even made him talk to a doctor and try a prescription for Ambien, but Stiles hated how groggy it made him feel in the morning, so he sticks with melatonin and tea with valerian root and occasional naps during the day. That's one thing he's definitely looking forward to about the summer: the ability to nap whenever he feels like it.

In any case, he's been up since five in the morning, so driving Scott to work is not a big deal. By the time he gets back to Derek's, Scott has already texted him to let him know that Dr. Deaton is fine with him leaving at four as long as all his work is done. Stiles has no doubt that it will be. Scott may not be the brightest crayon in the box (although he's much smarter than most people give him credit for) but he's very good at being a hard worker, especially when the occasion calls for it.

He and Isaac stop by Dunkin' Donuts on the way back to Derek's, and arrive with a gallon of coffee in addition to the donuts themselves. This rouses everyone except Derek out of bed. Stiles makes chicken salad out of the leftovers from the night before and heads down to the station to bring his father a sandwich and some veggie sticks for lunch. His father gives him the typical 'you've got to be kidding' me look, which Stiles always enjoys, and tells him that if it's made with low-fat mayonnaise, he's grounded. Stiles tells his father that they're going to spend the day hanging out but then they're having dinner at the Argents (to which his father makes a sound that's something like 'hckgk') and that the pack will be back at Stiles' house at around eight PM presuming that none of them have been shot (to which his father makes a noise something like 'oh look, another grey hair').

After lunch, Derek is restless and wants to go to his studio, but he hates having anyone watch him work or see any of his unfinished pieces. Isaac and Stiles go with him anyway, but Isaac has his nose buried in a book the entire time and Stiles takes this opportunity to have his first nap of the summer. He likes napping in Derek's studio. There's a patch of sunlight he can curl up in, and it smells nice there, like paint and wood shavings, and the feeling he gets from Derek is focused and as close to content as the wolf ever is. It's soothing. He sleeps almost three hours.

Erica and Lydia, meanwhile, go shopping, because Lydia's found this cute purse online and obviously has to have shoes and a belt to match. Erica loves going shopping with Lydia, because it inevitably ends in her finding clothes that Lydia will buy for her. When they rendezvous back at Derek's, they're both dressed in entirely new outfits. Stiles and Lydia head out to pick up Scott and go to the Argents, leaving some disgruntled wolves behind. Derek in particular is annoyed, although he understands why he can't attend. Going undercover in the Argent family isn't something that the last surviving Hale can do.

There are two extra cars in the driveway, both those big, dark SUVs that the hunters seem to favor. Stiles wrinkles his nose at them, remembering when one of them ran his father off the road. They go around to the side of the house and enter through Allison's window. She's left it open for them. She's not inside at the moment, so they bide their time and wait. She comes in about ten minutes later, calling, "Yeah, okay, Mom," over her shoulder. She sees them there and her exasperated expression splits into a wide grin. Stiles gets the first greeting, because he's alpha, and then Scott gets a generous kiss before she greets Lydia as well. "I can't believe you guys are really doing this," she says.

Stiles just grins at her. "You know me. What's the sitch here?"

"Oh my God," Allison says, "these people are _nuts_. I thought my dad was hardcore, but these people . . . they're a group of hunters that follow the alpha pack around and try to pick them off. Dad says they're like _the_ elite of the hunter world. Apparently he thought about joining them at one point, but they won't accept anybody who's married or has children. That's how dangerous it is."

"Wow," Scott says, pulling Allison onto his lap.

"The leader is this woman named Vivien. And then there are four guys with her. It turns out I'm actually related to her. She's my mother's cousin."

"So your mother is from another hunting family?" Lydia asks.

"Yeah. The Argent family isn't the only one. My mother is part Sioux, like, one quarter, and apparently they've been hunting werewolves since long before the Argents set foot on American soil."

"It must've been a big deal when your parents got married, then," Scott says.

Allison gives a nod. "There have been intermarriages between hunting families before. Actually, it's not that uncommon. Stiles, remember when Gerard was trying to set us up as a couple?" she asks, and he nods. "Well, despite his massive misunderstanding of the situation, he wasn't exactly wrong when he said that it can be hard to find someone who's willing to marry a hunter. But since most of the hunting stuff goes in families, they typically encourage marriage, so . . ."

"So a lot of them marry each other," Stiles says, nodding in understanding.

"Right. Dad says there are about a dozen major hunting families in North America." She waves this aside. "And just so you know, 'the code' that my dad's always going on about? That's an Argent thing. Not a hunter thing. You can't expect that from anyone outside my family. Anyway, I know that my mom scares all of you, and Vivien is like my mother magnified to the tenth degree. This woman is _cold_. And my dad _hates_ her."

"How do you know?" Scott asks.

"She keeps dropping these veiled comments about how my father hasn't adequately 'handled' the wolf problem in the area. Along with how far behind I am in my training, and how Gerard never would have gotten arrested under her watch, and basically just calling my father incompetent between every breath. If he makes it through this without breaking any teeth, I'll be extremely surprised."

"Hm," Stiles says, thinking about how to handle this. "What about your mom?"

"Just as pissed as he is, if not more so," Allison says, "because Vivien also likes to point out how great a hunter my mother could have been if she hadn't 'settled' for being a housewife."

"Sheeeeeit," Stiles says, with a laugh. "This woman must have balls of solid brass. I wouldn't dare say something like that to your mother."

"It doesn't help that they basically showed up without warning, and Dad's trying to treat them like guests, but they're basically treating us like we're a glorified hotel," Allison says. "My mom's making a pot roast today, and Dad said something earlier to her about how she _would_ have guests at dinner, whether they liked it or not."

"Of course she will," Lydia says, grinning. "She'll have us."

"This is good, though," Stiles murmurs. "This is a great dynamic to play with. Have you interacted much with them?"

Allison shook her head. "I sucked up a little at breakfast this morning, or at least tried to, by asking how one became a member of their 'elite' group, but Vivien blew me off."

"Which of course pissed your dad off more, even though he knew you were just pumping them for information," Scott assumes, and Allison nods. "Geez. Stiles, you're sure you want to spend an evening with a bunch of pissed off Argents?"

"Now more than ever," Stiles says. "This is going to be fun."

Lydia lets out a little sigh and says, "Stiles, sometimes I think you use a different dictionary from the rest of us when you define words like 'fun'."

They sit around and discuss strategy for a little while, which ends somewhat suddenly when Chris gives a brisk knock on the door and strides in, saying, "Allison, your mother needs you to – " and then stopping just as abruptly when he sees the group of them sitting there.

Stiles springs to his feet and extends a hand. "Mr. Argent, nice to see you again."

Chris looks at his hand as if it's a dead fish, folds his arms over his chest, and says, "Stiles, what the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Oh, Allison said that you guys were expecting company but they might not show," Stiles says easily. "We thought we'd come help out."

Chris presses his lips into a thin line. He's learned the hard way that playing word games with Stiles almost always ends in disaster. "Give me one reason not to throw you out the window right now."

"A certain video?" Stiles suggests.

Chris' eyes narrow. He gives Stiles a truly potent glare, but it doesn't measure up to Derek's usual scowl, so Stiles is unfazed. Then he says, "Someday, Mr. Stilinski, the statute of limitations is going to expire on that little video that you have."

"Someday," Stiles agrees. "But today is not that day." He holds up a bag that he had brought with him and says, "I brought a pie for dessert."

"Try not to bleed on my carpet if they shoot you," Chris says, and takes the bag from his hands. Then he turns to Allison and continues, "Your mother would like you to come set the table. Apparently we'll need some extra place settings. Get the good china out of the cupboard." He turns and stomps out of the room, calling out, "Victoria, we're going to need to put the leaves in the table."

"This is gonna be awesome," Stiles says, his eyes sparkling as the group of them leave the room and head downstairs. Allison gets the plates and good napkins and they all help set the table. Eight places, Allison says, because three of the hunters are off doing whatever they do. Stiles wants to find out what, but he can wait. Only Vivien and her second in command, Tyrone, are going to be joining them for the meal.

Or maybe not even them. Stiles strains his ears to hear the conversation that Chris is having in the basement. His senses are only moderately enhanced by his position in the pack; it's nothing like real werewolf hearing. But it's decent enough that he can hear Chris down a hallway and a flight of stairs, saying, "Dinner is going to be ready in about five minutes."

"Thanks," a woman's voice replies, "but we brought rations."

Stiles can just _see_ the look that Chris is giving her. His voice comes out even and measured. "Victoria has cooked enough for everyone. If you're going to share my roof, you're going to share my table."

"It's customary for the local hunters to extend hospitality," a man says, his voice just dripping with smug attitude.

"Yes, it is," Chris says. "And I expect that hospitality will be returned with common courtesy. Come upstairs and eat the meal my wife has prepared."

Now sounding clipped and annoyed, Vivien says, "We'll be up in a minute."

Stiles grins. "God, Allison, I know that technically we're on different sides and shit, but I have mad respect for your dad. Dude is hardcore."

"He likes you too," Allison says, grinning. Scott gives her a skeptical look. "What? He _does_. Just this afternoon, Vivien was bitching about how he 'hasn't figured out' who's in the local pack and such. They're all assuming Derek Hale is the alpha and my dad just hasn't bothered to tell them any differently."

"I'm not sure if he's doing that because he likes me or because he hates them," Stiles says, "but I guess it works out either way."

Two minutes later, Victoria has called Allison into the kitchen to bring out the food. Lydia goes with her. Once everything is out, the hunters still haven't made an appearance. Chris has a little twitch in his jaw as he pulls a chair out for Victoria and pours her a glass of wine. Victoria is giving Stiles that terrifying look she has. He just smiles back at her. Scott shrinks away and pretends to be invisible. They sit in horrible, awkward silence for upwards of a full minute before Allison says, "Um. Should we serve ourselves?"

"No," Chris grinds out between clenched teeth.

"Ooooookay," Allison says, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Another few minutes go by before Vivien and Tyrone come into the dining room. From the looks on their faces, Stiles is sure that they took their time just to make a point. Vivien looks a little like Victoria, but she's darker skinned, and her hair is long and dark like Allison's. She's tall and graceful, but much more muscular than any of the other women present. Tyrone is a little shorter and stocky, with skin the color of dark chocolate and a completely shaved head.

"Oh, you didn't need to wait for us," Vivien says, smiling directly at Chris in challenge.

Chris admirably doesn't rise to her baiting. "Vivien, you've met my daughter Allison. This is her . . . boyfriend, Scott."

"Nice to meet you," Scott says quickly.

"And this is my best friend Lydia and her boyfriend, Stiles," Allison says brightly. They've used the 'couple' parlance before, to minimize explanations. And it gives them an extra card to play now that he hadn't expected, since the elite hunters can't get married. Vivien makes a noise which Stiles supposes is a grunt of acknowledgement before sitting down at the table.

"Wine?" Chris asks them, passing the dishes around.

"No, thank you," Vivien says. "We don't drink alcohol."

Victoria opens her mouth, then fills it with wine instead of saying anything. Allison and Stiles both bite back a grin.

The first few minutes of dinner are tense and silent. "This is great pot roast, Mrs. Argent," Stiles says.

She gives him a tight smile. "Thank you, Stiles."

Chris refills her wine glass.

Since small talk obviously isn't going to go anywhere, Stiles launches right in. "So, uh, Vivien – can I call you Vivien?" he asks, and she looks at him like he's from another planet. This is a reaction that Stiles is not completely unaccustomed to, so he plows onwards regardless. "Mr. Argent said that when it comes to hunters, you guys are the best of the best."

"Mr. Argent is absolutely correct," Vivien says.

"So how does one go about joining your ranks?" Stiles asks.

"I'm sure it wouldn't interest you."

"Oh, no, it definitely would," Stiles says. "See, I'm in training to be a hunter. Gerard was training me, actually. He said I had great potential. Unfortunately, my dad was injured at work and I had to drop out for a little while so I could take care of him. I've really wanted to get back into it, though."

Vivien studies him with marginally more interest. "You trained with Gerard?"

"He really liked him," Allison says. "We had, uh, we had some bad experiences with the pack here, and, well, Stiles and I were training to learn to protect ourselves, but Gerard really thought we could do well."

"Hm," Vivien says.

"But chasing around the alpha pack," Stiles says, letting admiration seep into his voice. Vivien is unbending a little, but only a little. Obviously, he needs to step up the flattery. She wants to show off in front of Chris and Victoria. He just needs to give her an excuse. "That must be an amazing thing to do."

"Yes, it is," Vivien says. Now she smiles, though it's almost a vicious smile, directed at Chris and Victoria. "It's not a job that just anyone can do."

"Do you ever kill any of them?" Stiles asks, his voice hushed with awe.

"Of course," Vivien says. She sets down her fork and says, "Most of the time it's impossible. But when they're focused on testing a new alpha, we can slip past their guard."

Chris clears his throat and says, "So, Stiles, have you thought about getting a job this summer? I know that Scott's still working at the animal clinic."

"I'm helping my dad out around his office," Stiles says, and immediately redirects the conversation by saying, "My dad's the sheriff, so I've thought about going into law enforcement. But hunting is just another kind of law enforcement, right?"

"Absolutely," Vivien says.

Tyrone frowns a little and says, "Wasn't it the sheriff that Gerard – "

"Previous sheriff," Stiles lies quickly. "My dad is the new one." Fortunately, Tyrone accepts this without question. "Allison told me that you won't take anyone who's married or has kids. Is it really that dangerous?"

"Of course," Vivien says, with a little scoffing noise. "Some people just aren't cut out for it," she adds, with another fake smile.

Victoria sets her wine glass down with a thump.

Chris clears his throat and again changes the subject. "What about you, Lydia? Any plans for the summer?"

Lydia smiles at him and says, "Well, Stiles and I were thinking about taking a trip somewhere romantic, but now I think I've probably lost him for life."

Stiles reaches out and squeezes her hand. "Maybe a little," he confesses. "Sorry, babe. It's just – "

"I know," Lydia says. "You and your hunter stuff."

After that, Chris seems to give up on changing the subject. He seems to hold the opinion that if Vivien is going to fall for Stiles' blatant flattery and manipulation, it's not his problem. Stiles and Allison keep the tag team going, teasing answers to their questions out of Vivien and occasionally Tyrone. Scott sits there and pretends to be invisible while Lydia melodramatically mourns the loss of her boyfriend to Vivien's amazing prowess at werewolf hunting. Victoria just continues to drink wine.

Bit by bit, Stiles gathers a wealth of new information. The hunters have the Plaza Inn staked out, and are going to follow the alpha pack until they figure out where the local pack's den is. Typically they don't have to do that because, as Vivien points out bitingly, "the local hunters have that intelligence." They followed the alpha pack to Derek's apartment building but couldn't get inside without being seen, and since so many people live in the complex, they have no way of knowing who they were going to see.

They're convinced that Derek Hale is the current alpha (who else would it be? Tyrone asks). They know that Peter Hale killed Kate Argent, so they're convinced that Derek is a mad dog who will have to be put down. They think that his alpha trial will be an excellent time to accomplish this. "They're so focused on the tasks at hand that they stop paying attention to everything else," Vivien says. "The urge to impress someone with higher pack standing than they have is like a sickness with these dogs."

Lydia has to bite her lip to keep from saying anything, and even then only manages it when she sees the glint in Stiles' eyes. He makes an appropriate comment and keeps the conversation moving. Derek is a bonus, if they can get him, but it's the members of the alpha pack that they're really after. "Murdering curs," Vivien calls them.

Stiles is starting to understand the alpha pack's existence, and respect their purpose. He's seen what an alpha can do with their power. He watched the havoc that Peter created while he ruled unchecked. At least some sort of regulatory party seems to be in everybody's best interests. As long as they judge him fairly, he has no problem with the pack as a whole. Kali seems to be a different story, but he knows better than most that you can't judge a pack by their alpha.

Peppered in between all of this is disparaging comments about what's been happening in Beacon Hills. How pathetic it is that the local contingent of hunters doesn't know the identities of all the wolves. (This is true; as far as Stiles knows, Chris is as of yet unaware of Erica and Isaac's addition to the pack, and he intends to keep it that way as long as possible.) How annoying it is to have to track them down by following the alpha pack (which they would be doing anyway, waiting for their chance, but Stiles doesn't bother to point that out). How even when werewolves 'aren't causing trouble', they're bound to eventually, and keeping track of them cuts down on investigative work needed when the inevitable happens.

Chris eats his pot roast with something approaching rage. Victoria pours herself another glass of wine.

And Stiles learns about the alphas as well. Vivien has seen them come and go; Vivien killed the last pack leader five years previous. "And then that bitch Kali took his place," she says, a statement which Stiles cannot argue with. She also says, "he went down so easy that I got another of his wolves at the same damned time," with a smug expression that Stiles really wants to punch off her face.

Stiles learns that the alpha pack typically has between five and ten members, that it's open only by specific invitation, and that they don't rush to replace a member if one is killed. Their strength is in their status, not their numbers. They're very mobile, staying in hotels or camping in the woods in their wolf forms, and have travelled all over the world. Between the current seven, they speak Mandarin and Cantonese (Mei), Spanish (Yasmin) and Portuguese (Kali), Hindi, Russian, and several African dialects (Ravinder), German and Swedish (Justin), Japanese and Korean (Ethan and Aiden).

The oldest is forty-three, which would be Ravinder. Yasmin is the youngest, at twenty-two, and Vivien theorizes that they only took her into the pack because Justin claimed her as his mate. She's the newest member of the pack. Several members have turned over since they invited Laura Hale, however; the pack has added Yasmin, Justin, and the twins in the meantime. Three members of the pack were lost, all to Vivien and her hunters, which she states with extreme pride. She doesn't think Yasmin and Justin will last long in the pack because they frequently butt heads with Kali, who doesn't take insults with any sort of grace. That, or Kali will be killed (sooner rather than later, Vivien hopes, and Stiles again can't help but agree) and Justin will become the new pack leader. He's new, but not as new as the twins or Yasmin. Ravinder will refuse, and Mei doesn't have the right personality to be a pack leader despite being an alpha.

The trials last about a week, which confirms what Ravinder told them, and almost always result in bloodshed between the pack leader and the alpha being tested. Scott shifts in discomfort at this news and shoots Stiles a sideways look, which Stiles does not return. This is the best chance to attempt to take down any of the alphas, as it often results in a brawl. Only an alpha with extremely good control over his pack, and an extremely tight bond with them, will be able to keep his wolves in check while he himself is in physical danger.

"But they must know you're there," Stiles says. "I mean, they know you follow them around and try to kill them, right?"

"Sure," Vivien says, with a shrug. "But they're hard to kill, and they usually stick together, so if one is wounded, the others can protect them during a retreat. They hardly ever go off on their own, but it happens sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't even matter. They're just animals. When their blood's up, they'll do what animals do."

Stiles sees Scott's jaw tighten, and he knows that underneath the table, he's tightly clutching Allison's hand. To a certain extent, Vivien is correct. The more dangerous the situation, the harder the wolf is to control.

Chris stands up and says he's going to go get dessert. "I'll help you," Scott says, bolting out of his seat. Chris just lifts his eyebrows at the teenager, but doesn't make any objection. They're gone for several long minutes while Vivien tells a gruesome story about the first alpha she killed during a trial. When they come back, Scott passes around small plates and Chris sets down the peach pie that Stiles made. He pours Victoria another glass of wine. She hasn't spoken in almost forty-five minutes.

"Here's my only question," Stiles says thoughtfully, cutting into his piece of pie. "Why don't the wolves team up with each other and fight you guys instead?"

Vivien gives him an incredulous look. "You think any alpha out there is going to help the pack that's trying to test him? It's better for him if the entire alpha pack is dealt with by an outside force."

Stiles is slowly cutting his crust into pieces. He's completely lost his appetite, and the food he's made himself eat is sitting uneasily in his stomach. "But the alpha pack exists for a good reason. Do the alphas being tested not understand that?"

"Even if they do, they won't risk their own hides to save some other wolf, particularly when they've spent the last week making their life miserable." Vivien shrugs and takes a bite of her pie. "Cowards, all of them."

Stiles sets his fork down with a decisive click. The entire _room_ holds its breath. Lydia and Scott can feel his fury trembling down their bond; even Allison can feel it to some extent. Chris just sees the look on Stiles' face and braces himself.

"Cowards," Stiles says.

There's a moment of silence.

"You know what's cowardly?" Stiles asks the room at large. "A hit and run. I think that's pretty cowardly. Gerard said to me 'it's terrible the way some people don't accept responsibility for their actions'. He said that to my _face_ less than forty-eight hours after he ran my father off the road and left him there to die."

A flicker of confusion passes over both Vivien and Tyrone's faces. "I thought you said – "

"Yeah, that was a lie, half of everything I've said tonight has been a lie," Stiles says dismissively, batting this aside. "Gerard tried to kill my father so I got him put in jail. I really was his protégé, but that's kind of a separate issue. I just don't understand how you guys can call wolves cowardly when _you're_ the ones being the worst kind of coward. Stalking them, waiting for them to turn around so you can shoot them in the back, instead of fighting them to their faces, hunting them with _honor_."

"You little ingrate, how dare you talk to me that way?" Vivien spits out, and when Stiles looks up, his eyes have turned crimson. Vivien makes a noise like she's been kicked in the stomach, and scrambles for her weapon. Before she can get it unholstered, Allison is standing, holding her smallest crossbow, the bolt aimed right at Vivien's heart.

"Allison," Stiles says, quietly.

"Yes, Stiles?" she says, her voice just as pleasant as ever.

"When did you get a crossbow that small?"

"It was a birthday gift," she replies.

"Of course it was." Stiles sounds amused, but the undercurrents of emotion in his voice are deadly. He folds his arms over his chest and looks at Vivien, who by now has drawn her gun and has it pointed right at his face. Tyrone still hasn't moved; he seems unsure of what to do. "Hi," he says. "I'm the local pack's alpha. Sorry it took me so long to introduce myself, but you were being so helpful and forthcoming that I just didn't want to rain on your parade."

Lydia giggles. It's a noise that's sweet, playful, and mocking all at the same time.

Stiles looks right down the barrel of Vivien's gun and says, "You're not going to shoot me."

"Give me one reason not to," she says, her hand tightening on the grip.

"Well, for starters," Stiles says, "Allison will shoot you with her crossbow. In case that's not compelling enough, you have to consider that my father is the sheriff, and he'll probably take issue with you murdering his sixteen-year-old son in cold blood. And, uh, there's a room full of witnesses here, so in case you plan on killing all of them . . . which I really don't think you could do before one of them killed you . . . you might want to reconsider that action. Lastly, other than making you look like a fool, I haven't actually done anything wrong."

"Besides being a werewolf?" Vivien snaps.

Stiles doesn't bother to correct her. "There's nothing wrong with being a werewolf, and I'm pretty sure that at least two people in this room, who were bitten and turned against their will, would have a great deal to say about your theory that 'being a werewolf' is something they've 'done'."

Vivien sneers at him. "If you're their alpha, and they were turned against their will, you're the one who turned them. I'd say that merits a death sentence. Would they not agree?"

Scott lets out a low growl. His eyes are gleaming gold now, and his claws are digging into the wood of the Argent's dining room table.

"I didn't turn them," Stiles says, still not even rising from his seat. "Peter Hale did. And I killed him. Thus: I am their alpha. And if you try to touch a single hair on my head, you are going to be in a world of hurt. This isn't even considering the fact that Chris Argent isn't going to go letting you murder people in his dining room." He shrugs a little and says, "Out of respect for Chris, I wasn't actually going to say anything and ruin this lovely dinner we were having, because I didn't want to diminish his standing with you guys. But then it became pretty clear that he doesn't actually _have_ any standing – sorry, Chris – so there wasn't really any reason _not_ to say anything."

"Your daughter is a werewolf?" Tyrone asks Chris, his lip curling.

"Who said that?" Allison asks, tossing her hair. "I'm just part of the pack."

"You're letting your daughter date a werewolf?" Vivien asks, her tone dripping contempt. "This is what the Argent family has come to? That's just sad."

Chris' temper snaps. He slams his hand against the table and says, "My _daughter_, in case you haven't noticed, is one hair trigger away from putting a bolt in your heart. She's one of the best damned hunters I've ever trained, and she's a young woman who's capable of making her own choices. I don't _let_ her do anything, and if you didn't look so far down your nose at people who decide to have children rather than join your little squad there, you'd realize that."

Stiles looks at Allison and mouths the words 'mad respect'. She wrinkles her nose at him.

"Anyway." Stiles finally stands and puts his napkin on the table. "I've enjoyed our conversation, but I think we should probably be going."

"Allison is staying here," Victoria says, finally speaking.

"Allison," Stiles says, "will not set foot in this house until these people are gone. That's not up for negotiation."

Chris clenches his jaw, but then gives a jerky nod and says nothing.

Stiles turns back to Vivien and says, "If you try to lay a hand or a bullet on a single werewolf in this town, whether they're in my pack or the alpha pack, I will bring everything I am down on you. And that includes all my wolves, because trust me, they're quite capable of hating you more than they hate the members of the alpha pack. If their 'blood gets up', I know exactly who they're going to go for. It'd be better for you if you just left my territory now and spared yourself some embarrassment."

"You son of a bitch," Vivien growls, her finger tightening on the trigger.

"Actually, my mother was an extremely pleasant person to be around," Stiles says. "Mrs. Argent, thank you for dinner. Everything was delicious. Feel free to enjoy the rest of the pie. Mr. Argent, always a pleasure. You have my sincere apologies for the amount of shit you're going to have to eat for the next however-many hours. But admit it – you enjoyed watching me take them down a few pegs as much as I enjoyed doing it."

Chris gives him a steely glare. "Get out of my house, Stiles, and take your pack with you."

"Sir, yes sir," Stiles says, and turns and marches from the room, with the others following along behind him, not turning their backs until they're all the way out of the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It's almost eleven o'clock the next night when Kali and her pack show up at Derek's apartment. They're each doing their own thing at that moment. Stiles is playing on his laptop. Scott and Allison are cuddled up with a movie, which Erica's also watching. Isaac's fallen asleep curled up in a corner in his wolf form. Derek and Lydia are playing chess.

They all feel them coming, and the tension in the apartment has tightened almost unbearably by the time there's a knock on the door. Stiles goes over and opens it. Kali smirks at him from outside and says, "Time for your first test."

"Let's hear it," Stiles says.

"Not here," she says. "You, come with me. The rest of you – you know what to do."

Stiles blinks at her, then gives a little shrug and a nod. He's only taken a step forward when he hears Derek growling. He looks over his shoulder and says, "I'm pretty sure that the point is not to take me out behind the building and shoot me. Let's just get it over with, you know?"

"I don't like it," Derek snaps. "There's no reason for us to be separated. The whole point of the alpha trial is to make sure you can handle your pack – "

"And I _can_," Stiles says flatly. Derek glares at him for a minute, but he knows what Stiles means. He looks down and away, his eyes flashing blue-silver with anger. Stiles nods and follows Kali out of the apartment.

They go out into the parking lot, where she gestures to a motorcycle. "Get on."

"Do you have a helmet?" Stiles asks.

Kali just gives him an incredulous look.

"I figured I would ask," Stiles says, and gets on. Kali gets on in front of him, and he wraps his arms around her waist, because whether he likes her or not, he's not about to fall off a motorcycle and die. Moments later, the motorcycle is zooming down the road. She makes several quick turns and heads out of town. Stiles is curious about what this task is, but there's no point in asking her when he won't be able to hear a word she says.

After about fifteen minutes, she turns onto a narrow back road. They've gone in the opposite direction of the Hale house, and he doesn't know these woods very well. They drive for about another five minutes at a less breakneck pace, and then leave the road entirely. When they finally stop, they're in the genuine middle of nowhere. She parks her bike in a little clearing and says, "Get off."

"Not the chatty type, are you," Stiles says, getting off the bike. He stands in the middle of the clearing and looks around. Trees, dirt, rocks. About what one would expect in a forest. It's lit only by the moon, which is nearly full. "So what are we doing out here?"

"At the moment, we're waiting for the others to get here," Kali says.

"Why didn't they just come with us?" Stiles asks, and Kali doesn't reply. "Right then. Shrouded in mystery. I gotcha." He thinks about this for a minute. "So, Derek was telling me about the last time he saw you. He doesn't seem to be a big fan of yours."

"What a coincidence," Kali says. "I'm not a big fan of his."

"Right," Stiles says. "It's all his fault that Laura wouldn't join the alpha pack."

Kali turns on him, her eyes flashing crimson, anger in her every move. "What the _fuck_ do you think you know about it?"

"What I know," Stiles says, staying calm in counterpoint to her building fury, "is that you cornered Derek when he was already miserable and vulnerable enough, and tried to coerce him into convincing Laura to join the pack. That tells me everything I need to know about you, Kali. You're nothing more than a two-bit bully. I've been dealing with people like you my entire life."

Kali's fists clench at her sides and she says venomously, "If Laura had joined the alpha pack, she'd be alive right now."

"Is that what this is about?" Stiles has to admit he's surprised. "You blame Derek for Laura's death?"

"She should be the alpha of this territory," Kali spits out. "Not Derek. And certainly not _you_."

Stiles considers all this quietly for a minute, adding up everything he knows to get a complete picture. Finally, he says, "I believe that you cared about Laura. But nobody loved her more than Derek did. He copes with her loss every day, and I watch him struggle with it. Derek accepted me as his alpha, and I will do my best to be an alpha that Laura would have been proud of. And that should tell you everything you need to know about me."

"Oh, right," Kali says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Trial's off! Let's all go home because you're trying to honor Laura's memory."

Stiles sighs. "Okay," he says, "fine. I didn't really expect you to be reasonable, but it was worth a try. But if you use this trial as an excuse to hurt Derek, I will take you apart."

"I'd like to see you try, little boy," she says.

He meets her gaze. "No," he says, "you wouldn't."

"I'm not afraid of you," she snarls.

"Neither was Peter Hale," Stiles says, and with that, he considers the conversation over. He takes his phone out and starts up a game to pass the time.

He's still tapping away at his phone when the other alphas start to arrive. They do it one at a time, but within minutes of each other. Kali waits with a stone expression until they're all there. Then she looks at Stiles, gives him a vicious little smile and says, "Okay. Call your pack."

Stiles blinks at her. "What?"

"Bring your pack here. Call them to you."

"Seriously?" Stiles asks. "That's all I have to do?"

Kali laughs in his face. "As if you even can!"

Stiles stares at her for a long minute. Then, completely deadpan, he lifts his face to the sky and says, "A-roooooo!"

There's a snort of laughter from both Yasmin and Justin, and a faint smile touches Mei's face. Kali doesn't seem to think it's as amusing. "Are you making fun of me, you piece of shit?"

"Sweetheart, I don't have to," Stiles says. "A wise man once said: never argue with an idiot. They'll drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back to my game." He sits down on the forest floor and pulls his phone back out. At least he still has reception. "So how far away is my pack?"

"They've been left in several places around the forest," Mei says. "The furthest is probably about twenty minutes away. For a wolf."

Stiles looks up. "What about Allison?"

"Ah, yes." It's Ravinder who replies. "We left your beautiful brunette with her mate."

"Very thoughtful of you," Stiles says, tapping away at his screen.

"Well, we didn't want to be out here _all_ night," Yasmin replies.

"Just think," Kali says, with a viciously sweet smile, "that means in about half an hour, when none of them can find you, I'll get to rip you to pieces."

"We'll see," Stiles says, and continues playing his game. After a few minutes, the wolves shrug and settle down in the clearing as well. It's a nice night, a little chilly but overall not too bad. Yasmin is cuddled up with Justin, while the twins are both in their wolf form, which is also identical. Mei climbs up to sit in the first branch of a tree. Ravinder has a small paperback book that he takes out and begins to read. Kali just continues to sneer at Stiles and occasionally drop a comment as to how long he has left to live.

It takes about fifteen minutes before Derek shows up. Stiles gets to his feet when he feels him coming, and Derek rockets into the clearing in his full wolf form. He transforms as he lunges forward, though he doesn't shift all the way back to human. That's something of a surprise, because Derek doesn't spend a lot of time in the partial wolf form, unless he's expecting a fight. He immediately sweeps an arm around Stiles, standing between him and the majority of the alphas, lips curled and teeth bared in a snarl.

"Derek, I'm fine," Stiles says quietly. "They didn't hurt me."

Derek gives him a fierce glare, but then turns and embraces him, pressing his face into Stiles' hair and inhaling deeply. His grip is so tight that it's almost painful, but Stiles doesn't try to push him away. He just lets Derek hold him, and murmurs into his ear, "It's fine. I'm fine."

After a long minute, Derek lets him go. Kali is staring at them in shock. The rest of the alphas merely look interested. Stiles gives Derek a look and says, "What, did you just leave your clothes in the middle of the forest somewhere?"

Derek scowls. "They would have slowed me down."

"Yeah, by fifteen seconds maybe," Stiles says, shaking his head in amusement.

"Let the man work, some of us enjoy the view," Yasmin says, craning her neck around. Justin laughs and gives her a playful nip on the ear.

Before anyone else can discuss Derek's nudity, both Erica and Lydia come running up from separate directions. Unlike Derek, they've stayed in their half-shifted forms, because they did not want to be naked. Other than that, their entrance is very similar. Since Derek is still facing Stiles with an arm wrapped around his shoulders, Erica almost immediately presses herself to Stiles' back, facing outward and snarling at the assembled company. Lydia practically has to shove her way in between the two of them to press her cheek to Stiles' in greeting and make sure he's okay.

"Guys, I'm fine, I – oof," Stiles grunts as Lydia tries to elbow her way in.

Kali is glaring at them, though given the way Erica is growling at her, that's probably understandable. Stiles is wondering how he's going to handle that little disaster, since Erica's temper can be volatile at times, when Scott runs up. Allison is on his back, though the ride can't have been easy on her; she looks a little nauseous. Werewolves don't have the smoothest of paces.

As soon as they come into the clearing, Scott goes directly over to Stiles to add himself to the protective layering of wolves he now has. Allison, for her part, shoots a glance over at Stiles to make sure he's all right and then gets right in Kali's face. "You mangy, flea-bitten bitch," she snaps, "I could have made it here on my own. Just because I'm human doesn't mean I'm weak. You don't have to pander to me, you – "

"Allison," Stiles says, a little surprised, but wanting to intervene before Kali can rip her face off, which looks like it's about to happen any second.

Allison gives Stiles a fierce glare. "It was an insult," she says, "and it wasn't necessary."

"No, it wasn't," Stiles says, "but it's done. Okay?"

She holds his gaze for a minute, but then subsides. "It won't happen again," she says.

"Right," he agrees. "They've learned their lesson, I'm sure."

It looks like Kali has something to say about that, but then Isaac jogs up. He's a little less vehement than the others in his immediate checking of Stiles, but does it just as overtly. Stiles lets out a sigh, part relief, part exhaustion. "Okey dokey," he says. "Here's my pack. I've passed the test. Can we go home now?"

"How did you do that?" Kali asks, her eyes starting to glow red as she stalks forward.

Stiles meets her gaze evenly, but he can feel the tension rising inside the clearing. "Why are you asking me that?"

Kali stops, momentarily taken aback. "Why?"

"Yes," Stiles says. "Why?"

"Because you shouldn't have been able to do it!"

"Oh, really?" Stiles asks. "So you gave me a task that you thought I wouldn't be able to complete. I did. Does it really matter _how_ I did it? You told me to call my pack here, and I did."

"You cheated!"

"Cheated?" Stiles manages to sound incredulous, even though he's really not surprised at all by Kali's behavior. "How can I cheat at a game which has no rules?"

Her gaze lands on his phone. "You contacted them with that!"

"So what if I did?" Stiles asks. "You didn't say I couldn't."

"Let me see it!" Kali grabs at the phone.

Before she can move more than an inch, Derek is between them, pushing her away, already back in his half-shifted form. Kali snarls at him, her features starting to change. Stiles grabs Derek by the shoulder and pulls him back about an inch. "Touch my phone and I'll break your fingers," he snaps at Kali. "I did what you asked me to do. We're done here."

"I can always decide you failed the task," Kali snarls.

"Oh for Christ's _sake_, Kali," Justin suddenly intervenes, sounding completely exasperated. "Are you for _real_? He did what you told him to do! Let it go already! It's after midnight, my butt is soaked from sitting on the wet ground, I haven't had sex in over eight hours, and I'm freakin' starved. You can do whatever you want, but Yas and I are leaving."

Kali stares after them with her mouth open as the two of them link hands and start to walk away. Mei jumps down from her perch in the tree, gives an elegant shrug, and follows them. After a pause, the twins pad away, still in their wolf forms. Ravinder gives Stiles a polite nod, almost a half-bow, and then turns to join the rest of the pack. Finally, realizing that she's beaten, she turns to Stiles and says, "You won't get off so easy next time."

Stiles can't help it, the sudden release of tension has him slightly giddy. "That's what she said!"

"Oh my _God_, Stiles." Erica begins to laugh hysterically.

Lydia punches him on the shoulder.

Kali turns and flounces away.

"That was epic," Scott says, plopping on the ground to join Erica in her laughter. "Did you see the look on her face?"

Before long, all of them are laughing, except Derek. However, his scowl has unbent into a mere frown, which given the situation, is more than Stiles would have expected. It takes a while for the hilarity to subside. "I can't believe you stonewalled her like that," Allison says, shaking her head.

"It's easy to stonewall someone who's already made up their mind," Stiles says. "I do that with Mr. Harris all the time. He's way scarier than her."

"What you should have done is asked her to figure out where Derek was hiding his phone, in that case," Isaac says, gesturing to the older wolf. This gains another burst of laughter.

"I left it with my clothes," Derek says.

"Obviously," Lydia replies.

"I don't need a phone to find my alpha." Derek glowers at all of them. Then he pauses and says, "But the GPS coordinates at least let me know which direction to start in."

Stiles snorts with laughter and then hauls himself to his feet. "C'mon, guys. It's late. I'm tired. And I get the feeling that the next task will not be as much fun as this one."

* * *

After they've walked back to where Derek shifted so they can pick up his clothes, it occurs to them that they're at least ten miles out of town, probably more, with no way to get back. They're all in good shape, but even for the wolves, it would be quite a trek. "How did you guys get out here, anyway?" Stiles asks.

"They had a couple cars," Scott says. "They drove us out here and then we each followed one of them. Allison and I followed the twins, that is, and everyone else had their own alpha to follow."

"And they didn't give you a hard time?" Stiles asks.

"No, actually, overall they were pretty reasonable about it," Lydia says. "After Kali left with you, and uh, some of us were getting a little antsy, Justin told us that Kali was taking you to an undisclosed location and we would have to find you. That calmed us down. We didn't like leaving you alone with Kali, though."

"Yeah, I think I gave as good as I got talking to her," Stiles says. "So you guys were in a car. Kali brought me out here on her motorcycle. She was driving pretty fast, but I don't know exactly how far we were taken."

"I don't know these woods very well," Derek says.

"Maybe this is another test," Isaac suggests. "Like, to see how we handle being stranded out in the middle of nowhere."

Stiles has to admit it's plausible, but from Justin's attitude when they left, he doubts it. It's something he has to consider, though. Then he shrugs and says, "Screw it," and takes his phone out again. "I'm calling my dad to come pick us up."

"He'll love us forever," Lydia says.

"Are you kidding?" Stiles says. "I'm calling him for help when I'm in a jam instead of trying to handle it myself. This is like Christmas for him." He grins, and both Derek and Scott let out a snort of laughter. "Besides, he's on duty tonight; he'll still be up." He taps a few buttons on his phone. His father picks up on the first ring. "Hey, Dad," Stiles says, "soooooo, I had my first alpha trial tonight."

"How'd it go?" his father asks.

"Oh, I kicked its ass," Stiles says. "They were all very impressed. But, uh, then they left us all out here in the middle of the forest with no way of getting back to town. How would you feel about coming to pick us up?"

Sheriff Stilinski sighs. "Where are you?"

"I'll text you the GPS coordinates. Let your smartphone be your guide."

His father gives an audible eye roll. "Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Since they're obviously going to have to wait, and it's getting a little chilly as they get into the wee hours of the night, Allison and Erica build a campfire. Derek sits a fair distance away from it, because he's not a huge fan of fire, and Stiles sits with him. He's not cold, anyway, the adrenaline is still coursing through his system. It's clear that Kali doesn't intend for him to pass his trial, but the others are not so easily swayed. If they're going to judge him impartially, he has a chance. Of course, Ravinder was right when he said that Kali will pick at least one trial he can't possibly survive. But there's no use in worrying about that until he gets there.

His father arrives about forty-five minutes later, in one of the police vans. It's not exactly comfortable, but it's better than trying to cram all seven of them into his patrol car. Stiles sits up front with him and tells him about the trial while the others ride in the back. His father seems to share his view that things are only going to go downhill from here, but mostly keeps his opinions to himself. He drives them back to Derek's apartment.

As soon as they get out, Scott and Lydia both stiffen. "Hunters," Scott says. "I can smell them."

Stiles nods. "They know we're here now, so they'll stake this place out as well as the hotel. Waiting to try to catch us at a vulnerable moment."

Derek's scowl deepens as his eyes flick to the forest.

"No," Stiles says. "Not now. I'm not sure how we're going to deal with them, but I don't think we'll be able to come at them head on. Not without taking casualties." He lets out a breath. "Come on, guys. It's late. I'm tired."

Despite that, he's unable to sleep. While the rest of them curl up in the pile of cushions and blankets that makes up Derek's bedroom, he gets up and starts baking. He always likes to bake when he can't sleep. It's productive, methodical, but not difficult. After two batches of cookies, he finds his eyes sagging. He makes himself some green tea and then crawls into bed with the others. Derek stirs a little, but doesn't really wake.

The next day, upon waking, Scott says, "Maybe you should bring some cookies out to our stalkers."

Erica smacks him upside the head. "Don't encourage him, numbnuts."

Stiles laughs. "That's what was missing when I went to the hotel. I should've brought gingersnaps. I would have had them literally eating out of the palm of my hand."

Derek gives him an unamused stare. "You are the worst sort of person."

Stiles leans against his shoulder with a smile. "I know."


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Suddenly, Stiles abuse! =D_

_I wish I could remember where on tumblr I had gotten the idea of the baseball bat/barbed wire combination, but I saw it so long ago that it's been lost to time._

* * *

Chapter Five

None of them really want to venture much of anywhere with the hunters waiting outside, and Scott has the day off, so they order pizza and decide not to leave. Stiles is surprised when his phone rings and displays an unknown number, but picks it up. "Stilinski Taxidermy; you snuff 'em, we stuff 'em," he answers.

There's a snort of laughter on the other end of the phone. "Wow," Yasmin's voice says. "Seriously, just wow."

"Sorry," Stiles says, though he's not really. "Usually when an out-of-state number calls me, it's some kind of salesperson. What's up? This is Yasmin, isn't it?" he adds, not because he's not sure, but to alert the others to who he's talking to. He sees Derek's head jerk up like it's on a string. The others look over as well.

"Yeah," she says. "So hey, it's the full moon tonight."

"Yes, I know," Stiles says.

"Thought we could hang out."

"You and me, or your pack and my pack?"

Yasmin is clearly amused. "We're not familiar with the area, and we don't want to spend the full moon cooped up in a tiny hotel room. Figured you guys could show us the sights."

"Sure," Stiles says, because he senses the underlying test at hand here. The alphas want to see how his pack behaves during a full moon. Having Yasmin call might make it look like a friendly outing, but he isn't about to fall for that. He wants to talk to the rest of them before deciding how to handle it, but he doesn't know how well she'll take to being asked to call back. He stalls for time. "How'd you get my number?"

"Oh, I called the sheriff and asked him if I could have it," she says. "We figured after you got picked up by the van last night, he must be clued in."

So at least one of them had watched how they got out of the woods. Stiles can't help but feel a little chill go down his spine, not least of all because they hadn't had any idea that someone was still there. "I'll have to talk to my dad about giving my number out to strange women."

"Oh, _pobre cito_," she says, laughing at him.

While this banter is going on, Stiles cups his hand over his phone and whispers to Lydia, "What time is moonrise tonight?"

"Not 'til nine thirty," she whispers back.

To Yasmin, he says, "Okay, we'll meet you at nine." There's an abandoned warehouse in town with an old, broken down bus in it that they hang out in during the full moon sometimes. It gives them room to move around without being seen. It's not as good as the forest, but he doesn't want to be out where they'd be easy prey for hunters. "I'll text you an address."

"See you tonight," she says, in a tone that's both friendly and mildly suggestive, before hanging up. Stiles shakes his head at the phone.

"So, uh, I know that we were basically going to hang out here and channel our inner wolf into a Street Fighter tournament," he says, "but I think instead we're going down to the warehouse district and playing parkour werewolves an' shit."

"They want to watch us during a full moon?" Scott surmises, and Stiles nods.

It's not to say that full moons can't be very interesting times for them. He hadn't expected that he would be so affected, the first full moon after he became alpha. But even though he didn't turn, he had practically gone out of his mind from the storm of the emotions. Even during the day, he had been jittery. Once the moon rose, he had been a bundle of nerves, shifting from anger to excitement to joy more quickly than anyone could predict. Finally, they had taken turns sparring with him until the storm had calmed enough for him to sleep. All of them had had bruises the next day.

Now that he expects it, he can contend with it. The best thing to do is to have something planned. Something that keeps him occupied and provides an outlet for the emotions. These days, it usually involves violent video games. Even Derek gets into it when they're playing Call of Duty or Grand Theft Auto. It satisfies their bloodlust without actually hurting anybody (and there's a great deal of entertainment value in listening to Derek fucking Hale shout 'run that bitch down!').

Isaac had great control from the beginning, but Erica's is still shaky. This is only her fourth full moon, and if she makes it through without spending part of it held down by the others, it will be the first time. Gymnastics might be good for her, come to think of it. But the competition will be fierce, and that won't help her instincts. Stiles makes a few mental notes about things they're going to need to bring.

They spend the day in the woods, playing lacrosse and ultimate Frisbee and just generally trying to burn off as much energy as possible. They're keenly aware that they're being watched, and nobody lets their guard down for as much as a second. But Vivien and her people don't make a move. Stiles runs his pack into the ground. He wants them as mellow as possible when the moon rises.

By sunset, he's sore and exhausted. "Want to pick up a few things," he says, and they split off into two cars. Allison, Scott, Lydia, and Isaac go to the grocery store. Derek, Erica, and Stiles go back to Stiles' house. He has a brief discussion with his father, who agrees to personally answer any calls about noise or violence from that building, just in case. Then he grabs what he needs.

His weapon of choice these days is a baseball bat wrapped in silver barbed wire. It's a masterpiece of his own creation.

Silver is soft, all the texts on werewolves say, so it doesn't make a good weapon. You can't use it in a bullet, and a blade made of it will break. Some hunters will fill the notches of a knife with it. But Stiles has done one better. A baseball bat is a good weapon for him, because it doesn't require a great deal of precision. Just brute force. The barbed wire is an idea he got from a movie.

He scouted antique stores and pawn shops until he had collected a fair amount of actual silver, then his father had helped him melt it down in their garage. (Fun with blowtorches: always a good father-son bonding experience.) He had dipped the barbed wire in it, so it was coated, then wrapped it around the bat, cutting grooves into it to help it stay in place and then stapling the wire to the wood. (Industrial staplers: another fun toy.) It was still soft, but with this weapon, that was actually an advantage. When he hit someone with it, bits of the silver flaked off. For werewolves, it left nasty burns, and if the wire broke the skin and the silver got into their bloodstream, it resulted in agonizing pain.

Derek arches his eyebrows when Stiles comes downstairs with that bat over his shoulder. "So you're expecting this to go well, I take it."

"Luck favors the prepared," Stiles replies.

They gather at the warehouse. Scott and his group have brought a bunch of chips and soda, plus several six packs of beer. "How did you get that?" Stiles asks, surprised, and Lydia just twirls some of her hair through her fingers and says she has her ways. He supposes it's fair. He doesn't want this to look like some kid's party.

The warehouse doesn't have electricity, but a while back Derek bought a generator and moved it in so they could set up a television and the video game systems. It's a good place to spend the full moons: sheltered, isolated, big enough to move around in whenever one of them is feeling antsy.

There's a loud bang on the side door at nine o'clock sharp. Stiles goes over and pulls the door open. Like his own pack, the alphas are dressed mostly in jeans and leather. He greets them cordially and stands back to let them in. After some thought and some discussion, he's decided not to mention the hunters. The alphas know they're there, but they don't know that he knows. He doesn't see how that would come in handy, but it could, so he says nothing.

"We brought the refreshments," he says, gesturing to the stack.

"Cool," Justin says, and immediately goes for a beer.

Kali comes in last, looking like someone just insulted her ancestry. She looks around and mutters, "What a dump." It's said just low enough that she could claim it was meant to be a private observation, although anyone with wolf hearing would have been able to hear it. Fortunately, at almost the exact same moment, Yasmin declares, "Race you to the roof!" and jumps on top of the bus. Justin and both the twins scramble to compete, and without prompting, Erica and Scott join in as well.

Ravinder lets out a soft chuckle at their antics. Mei greets Stiles politely and offers their own contribution to the night's festivities: a cooler full of hamburgers and hot dogs and a small, portable grill. "Is that gas or charcoal?" Stiles asks.

She blinks at him and says, "It's electric actually, why?"

"Oh, that's cool," Stiles says. "We have electricity. And we tend not to do anything that involves fire if we don't have to."

Mei's gaze flickers over to Derek, who's fiddling with the video game system so he doesn't have to participate in the conversation, and she nods in understanding. "That's very thoughtful of you," she says, and carries the grill over to the generator.

The others come down a few minutes later, with Yasmin cheerfully bitching about having lost, and Erica explaining the route she had taken to win.

Kali checks her watch somewhat ostentatiously and says to Stiles in a loud voice, "Moonrise is in twenty minutes. Don't you have things you should be doing?"

Stiles just gives her a smile and says, "Right. Those burgers aren't going to grill themselves. Derek, how's it coming over there?"

"I'm almost done," Derek says. "Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat?"

"There'll be time for both," Stiles says.

Kali's look drips disdain. "Video games?"

"They do wonders to entertain the inner wolf," Stiles agrees, with a sage nod.

"Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast?" Justin asks, laughing.

"It's breast, actually," Lydia says. Justin blinks at her. "Music hath charms to soothe the savage _breast_. It's from _The Mourning Bride_, and it's often misquoted."

"Well, you would know all about breasts," Aiden says with a smirk.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but Lydia just leans into the twins, leans close, taps them each on the nose, and says, "Just keep dreaming that dream, little toaster."

Several of Stiles' wolves let out snorts of laughter. Lydia backs away, laughs, and darts into the darkness of the warehouse. Ethan and Aiden have shifted and are after her moments later. Stiles doesn't worry about it. Lydia can take care of herself, and his pack knows this warehouse much better than theirs. And he's keenly aware that his blood is up, too, and that the urge to start beating the twins with his baseball bat really has nothing to do with Lydia. Isaac and Scott immediately take off after the group, and they'll make sure Lydia's okay.

Derek either senses his edginess, or just sees the way he's slowly clenching and unclenching his fists. He comes over and puts an arm around Stiles' waist, rubbing his cheek against Stiles' hair. It's a common greeting from him, but not usually something he does when they've been together for a while. Stiles gets the strange impression that Derek is very deliberately marking him right in front of the alpha pack. It's . . . weird. But he doesn't mind, especially if it makes Derek feel better.

"Who do you want to play?" he asks Stiles.

"Scorpion," Stiles says, and lets Derek pull him over to the collection of bean bags and cushions that are piled in front of the television. He waves at the other alphas who are still standing around.

Justin plunks down next to him. "Johnny Cage," he says.

"My man," Stiles says, and holds his hand out for a fist bump, which Justin returns.

Before long, they're deeply embroiled in the tournament. All of the wolves have gathered back by the television and are urging their own pack member on. The shouts are loud and inflammatory, vulgar and often bloodthirsty. Stiles knows this is a victory when Mei claims a controller to play Liu Kang, beats Allison into the ground, and murmurs afterwards, "You're right. This _is_ rather soothing."

"Rematch," Allison growls. "Bring it, bitch."

In between bouts, they shift into wolf form and run around the warehouse, playing hide-and-seek or simple games of tag. Even Derek joins in on occasion, although for the most part he stays right by Stiles. The only person who doesn't participate is Ravinder, who sits on one of the cushions and just watches everybody else. Kali does join in, although her involvement is more violent than anyone else's. After she charges Isaac so viciously that he skitters back on a rafter and nearly falls, Stiles has to restrain Erica before she can try to rip the alpha's throat out. It takes both himself and Derek to pin her to the ground until she's calmed down.

Stiles has a quiet word with Scott and Lydia, the calmest of the pack, and they're assigned to Kali-watch. Everywhere she goes, they go. In games of tag, they stalk her no matter who's it. While she's in her human form, they hover right near her. This aggravates her immensely, but they're not doing anything wrong, and Stiles has a right to protect his pack.

He cooks the hamburgers, and they share a meal, but the atmosphere is more strained than before. This is a shame, since everyone had honestly been having a good time. Justin throws a dirty look or two Kali's way, but doesn't protest her behavior, since the point _is_ to make sure Stiles has control of his pack, and they just got a lovely demonstration.

As dawn approaches, most of them are worn out from the night's strenuous activities. Erica, Isaac, and Lydia have fallen asleep in their wolf forms, curled into a pile of cushions. Scott and Allison are sprawled out nearby, still awake but just talking quietly. Derek is sitting on the battered old sofa, with Stiles pulled against his chest. Kali and her pack are in similar disarray. She's the only one still on her feet, pacing around the warehouse with a scowl on her face. The twins are a little ways off, Ethan on his back and Aiden slouched over him, both of them in their wolf form. Mei has curled up on one of the cushions with her tail tucked under her nose. Yasmin and Justin are on the sofa with Derek and Stiles, yawning their way through another round of Street Fighter, with nowhere near the vehemence that had accompanied the game earlier that night. And Ravinder, still sitting with his knees tucked to his chest, watching.

"Well," he says, at around seven AM, "it has been an instructive experience. I hope that you have enjoyed it as much as I have."

The other alphas take that as a sign that it's time to go. Yasmin and Justin rise sleepily to their feet and start nudging Mei with their toes. The twins get up as well, stretching thoroughly before shifting and gathering their clothes.

Kali just continues to glare at them in sullen silence while Stiles hauls himself off the sofa. Derek's eyes flutter open as he does so, and he realizes that the other man had actually dozed off. It surprises him, but they had all expended a lot of energy.

"See you later, guys," he says, showing them out. His own pack will be leaving too, so he grabs his leather jacket and pulls it on. The others are gathering around him, a little slowly, but Derek's hovering again, staying right at his back.

He thinks that things might actually end without bloodshed until Kali whirls at the last minute and says, "I don't know how you've done this, how you've tricked them into behaving like they belong to you, but it's a mistake. A mistake that I'm going to fix. No _real_ wolf should be under the control of some human upstart."

Stiles yawns in her face. He doesn't actually mean to, but hell, it's been a long night. "Yeah, okay," he murmurs. He's too tired to come up with a better comeback.

This, of course, only incenses Kali more. "You're a _joke_," she growls. "You think that you can take the place of the rightful alpha of this territory? You'll never be one tenth of what Laura Hale was."

Derek snaps to attention. "Leave my sister out of this," he growls over Stiles' shoulder.

"I wish I could," Kali said, "but I was her friend, and I know she's rolling over in her grave, watching you bow your head to this wannabe-wolf. Don't you _get_ it, Derek?" she snarls. "This is on _your_ head. I _told_ you to convince her to join us. If Laura had joined us, she'd still be alive. This is your fault!"

Stiles sees it coming, but there's no way he can stop it, nothing he can do to dampen Derek's rage and anguish at Kali's statement. The older man lunges forward, shifting as he goes. He stays in his partial human form, because there's no time to go all the way wolf, but his jaws go straight for Kali's throat. Stiles sees that tiny little smirk on her face and he knows that she thinks she's won, that as soon as Derek's fangs sink into the arm she's flung up to protect herself, Stiles has failed the trial. No one is allowed to draw blood except the alpha.

There's no time to stop Derek, so Stiles does the only thing he can do – he shoves his way in between them. He was already mostly there anyway, and with one hand knocks Kali back and out of the line of fire, the other hand fumbling for the baseball bat he had left by the door when he came in. Derek's teeth sink into his shoulder and he _howls_, as much from surprise as pain. There's a sound like the collective breath has been kicked out of the room, and then a blur of dark hair and leather as Scott tackles Derek and knocks him off Stiles and to the ground.

Stiles gingerly tries to rotate his shoulder. It won't move at all. He can't even wiggle his fingers, so it's definitely dislocated. He doesn't know if Derek's fangs actually got through his leather jacket and into his skin. There will be time for that in a minute. A quick glance at Derek reveals that he's all right, that he's not fighting back and that he's now pinned to the floor by three of the wolves.

Kali lets out a mocking laugh. "That's your play?" she taunts. "Just throw yourself into the line of fire?"

Rage erupts in Stiles like a forest fire. He turns with one smooth motion and slams the baseball bat into Kali's jaw. He doesn't get as much force as he could, since he's wielding it one handed, but he's not the weakling he used to be, either. She screams and staggers backwards, knocking into the twins, who keep her from falling to the ground. Stiles sees the red welts almost immediately spring up on her face from the silver with vicious satisfaction as he tosses the bat aside. She springs back toward him, but he's ready, his .38 in hand and pointed directly at her face. She skids to a halt with her face only inches from the barrel of the gun.

"If you _ever_ say anything like that to him again," he growls, "this trial will be _over_ because you will be _dead_. Do you understand that, you bitch? Am I getting through to you?"

Kali paws at her face. "Silver!" she snarls. "How dare you use _silver_ against me?"

"Honey, I will use all that and more if you go after Derek again," Stiles says. He cocks the gun, a silly, unnecessary action that nevertheless makes an excellent point. "I would burn down the entire world if it kept you from hurting one of my pack. Now get the _fuck_ out of my face before I think about how lenient I'm being and decide it won't suit."

For a minute it looks like Kali might argue, but the pain caused by the silver is causing involuntary tears to spring up in her eyes, and she decides she'd better go. She turns and flounces off. The rest of the alphas follow her without a word. Stiles doesn't know if he passed or failed that test, and frankly he couldn't care less.

He's barely shut the door when Derek is on his feet, ripping at his shirt. "Are you bit?" he shouts, right in Stiles' face.

"Wha – "

"Are you bitten, did I bite you?" Derek yells, his hands becoming more frantic as they try to get Stiles clothes out of the way. The way he's fumbling at Stiles' dislocated shoulder causes agony to flare up, and knocks the clever retort right out of his mouth. Then his jacket is off and his shirt is in pieces on the ground to reveal the thin rings of the chain mail he was wearing beneath it. Derek stares at him, then reaches out and gently touches one of the links.

"I can't move my arm," Stiles says through gritted teeth.

They get him sitting down. Scott carefully pushes the mail aside to reveal that although there is some spectacular bruising, Derek's fangs didn't get through the metal. The older man breathes a sigh of relief that's almost a sob. "Relax," Stiles says, though his face is white and his voice wobbly. "I could handle being a werewolf, and we don't even know if your bite would turn me . . ."

"Isaac, help me brace him," Scott says, and Isaac nods and steps over. "Stiles, just . . . don't punch me, okay?" Scott says, and before Stiles can object, he grips Stiles by the shoulder and shoves it back into place. Stiles howls again and passes out for a minute. When he comes to, his head is in Erica's lap. He looks up at her with glassy eyes and mumbles something incoherent.

Gradually, the pain fades away. Stiles drifts and lets his enhanced healing take care of the problem. It's still stiff and sore when he sits up, about half an hour later, but he can move it as long as he's careful.

"Where'd you get that stuff?" Erica asks him.

"The Renaissance festival that came through this past spring," Stiles says. "Cost an arm and a leg, but they said it would protect against knives and bites better than a Kevlar vest."

"It does at that," Scott agrees. "You could've told us you were wearing it."

Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his head and says, "Everyone was freaked out enough without me showing up in body armor."

"Um . . . I'm pretty sure that would have made us _less_ worried, not more," Allison says. Everyone else nods and agrees. Stiles sighs and apologizes, because he's sure that they deserve one for something.

"Where's Derek?" he asks.

"He's currently busy hating himself in the rafters," Lydia says.

"Oh, geez." Stiles climbs to his feet.

"Uh, Stiles, there's no way you can climb up there with a recently dislocated shoulder," Scott says, as Stiles approaches a stack of boxes to get started.

"I know," Stiles says, starting up. "So he'll just have to come down, now won't he."

Two minutes later, Derek is on the ground again. But he won't look at Stiles. Stiles just walks over and wraps an arm around him. Derek flinches, but can't quite bring himself to push Stiles away. "I'm okay," he says. "It wasn't your fault. She baited you. The moon was still up. I'm not mad at you."

"I could have killed you," Derek says, resting his forehead against Stiles' shoulder.

"Yeah," Stiles agrees. "But I still wouldn't have been mad."

Derek lets out a huff that's almost a laugh. "You're an idiot."

"Yep. Good thing I have you looking out for me."

Derek leans against him.

"Come on," Stiles says. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm exhausted. Let's go back to my place and get some sleep."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Ah, this chapter is so full of feels~_

* * *

Chapter Six

The pack gets back to the Stilinski house at around eight AM and fall asleep in a pile in Stiles' bedroom. He sets his alarm clock for eleven, knowing that if he sleeps all day, he'll only further mess up his sleep schedule. His pack apparently does not agree with him, because he wakes up at two o'clock in the afternoon without ever having heard it go off. He's alone in his room, and only wakes up because his phone is ringing.

He fumbles for it, rubbing a hand over his eyes and muttering unkind things. When he finally gets it into his hand, he squints at the screen to see another out-of-area number. He thinks about picking up normally, but where would the fun in that be? "Stilinski mortuary; you stab 'em, we slab 'em," he mumbles.

"Cute," Justin says. "Possibly even prescient."

"Sounds dire." Stiles manages to sit up in bed and tucks his phone underneath his ear so he can rub both hands over his face. He sees the clock and mutters, "Jesus," under his breath. In what he hopes is a normal tone, he adds, "What's up? Is it that time again?"

"Not yet," Justin says, which doesn't surprise Stiles. The alpha pack is probably just as tired as his own is. He had been surprised to learn that the new moon wasn't actually the low point of a wolf's power. Although that's when they're closest to human, the few days after the full moon, when their strength is starting to ebb, is the most difficult for most wolves. Even he has a tendency to feel the most tired on those days.

Not to even mention that Kali would need at least a day or two to recover if any of the silver had gotten into her bloodstream. Stiles thinks back on it and takes a moment to hope that it had. He needs a few days off. "Okay. What, then?"

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened this morning," Justin says.

Stiles thinks this over very carefully. He's not sure why Justin is calling him, but he suspects that the other man is on his side. "Okay. What about it?"

"Uh, seriously, what were you thinking?"

Stiles has to take a deep breath before replying. "Maybe you should tell me exactly what you think I did wrong before we have this conversation."

"Silver and handguns are the kind of weapons a _hunter_ brings to the table," Justin says, and even his voice is heated. "Not a wolf. Not an alpha."

"I told you flat out that I had trained with the Argents," Stiles says. "I don't have teeth and claws to bring to the party. I do what I have to, to protect myself."

"Do you have teeth and claws now?" Justin asks.

Stiles lets out a snort. "No. Derek can't turn anyone without my express permission. Is that why you were calling?"

"I was calling because you're on thin ice," Justin says, "and I'm the only one in the pack who wasn't in favor of failing you flat out."

Stiles can't help feeling the chill go down his spine at that statement. "Mei and Yasmin too, huh?"

"Yas is on the fence, and Ravinder won't say anything, he never does," Justin says. "But yeah, nobody else would have argued if Kali had decided to fail you, and I can't overrule the rest of the pack by myself. And the only reason Kali didn't fail you is because she wants to _hurt_ you more than she wants to _kill_ you right now."

"What do you want me to say, Justin?" Stiles is so pissed off that he can't even find the words for it. "Yeah, I used a gun. Otherwise she would have torn my throat out. I'm not going to sit here and apologize for it, but it has nothing to do with my being an alpha or not. You heard what she said. And don't try to tell me that it was about testing my control of my pack, because it wasn't. It was personal. So my response was personal. What the fuck am I supposed to say? I didn't shoot her, did I? Though I'm starting to wish I had. If I'm going to flunk anyway, I wish I'd gotten at least that satisfaction after what that bitch said to Derek."

Justin's quiet for a minute. Then he says, "Derek's your lupa, isn't he."

Stiles nearly chokes. "What – I mean – that isn't – "

"I thought so before," Justin says, "after watching the way you two treated each other during the first trial. I mean, all your wolves were glad to see you, but . . . you should have told us."

After a pause, Stiles huffs out a breath. "It's complicated," he says.

"By which you mean 'we haven't talked about it'," Justin surmises. "Maybe you should. I think it would help."

"Thanks for that, Dr. Phil."

"Look," Justin says, "you're all turned around about this, probably more so than usual because as much as you're an alpha and you're part of a pack, you're still not all the way wolf. So instincts that would make perfect sense to me, they feel just a little out of whack for you. And Derek's probably not helping at all because the guy's obviously got issues. So let me see if I can sum up your problem in two easy words: you're straight."

"Well . . . yeah," Stiles says.

"Yeah, I've seen the way you look at Erica," Justin says, "and Yasmin for that matter. No hard feelings. My girl is hot. So you're over there thinking that Derek can't be your lupa because you're straight. But lupa isn't about that. We use the term 'mate' because there _is_ no word in English, or human, for it. And most lupas are a romantic couple, but not all of them. When Ethan and Aiden had their own pack, one was alpha and one was lupa."

"I . . . oh," Stiles says.

"Let me guess: you're thinking 'ew'."

"Yeah," Stiles confesses.

"Because you're thinking about sex. It's not _like_ that. Your dad's a cop, right? A lupa is like your partner."

"That relationship gets way romanticized in the movies," Stiles says automatically. "My dad hated his first partner."

"Well, go with the movie definition," Justin says, "because that's probably closer to the truth than anything else you'll find. Your lupa is your partner. Someone you would risk everything for. Someone that you can't live without. Someone that, if they get hurt, you'll flip your shit. _That's_ what a lupa is. It's not about sex. It's about equality. Partnership. And yeah, a lot of them are romantic couples because that's how people are wired. But they aren't all like that. Packs can split up. Husbands and wives get divorced. But _lupa_ – that never changes."

Stiles knows that all this should freak him out, but instead he feels overwhelming relief. He's _not_ crazy. Someone else can look at his relationship with Derek and sum it up in words that he never would have thought of, but are undeniably true. "Thanks," he says.

"Look, I won't tell Kali," Justin says, "because she'll just find new and exciting ways to be pissed off at you. But I am going to tell the others, because that puts what you did in an entirely different light. It's understandable, even commendable, to flip your shit when it's in defense of your lupa. Okay?"

"Yeah," Stiles says. "Okay."

"And talk to Derek. When I found Yas, I tried to dance around it for a long time because I didn't think the alpha pack would take her. Kali's never liked her. So I tried to pretend it wasn't there. But the longer you pretend, the worse it gets. Derek may have issues, but you'll _both_ feel better once it's on the table."

"Sure," Stiles says. "When all this is over, maybe. He won't be in any condition to hear it until we've seen the last of Kali."

"Fair enough," Justin says.

"This whole lupa thing," Stiles says, as something occurs to him, "is that always, well, mutual?"

There's a surprised pause. "Well, yeah. Why do you ask?"

"Uh. Have you read _Twilight_?"

"I should fail you just for asking that question."

Stiles laughs despite himself. "Okay, well, there's that whole imprinting thing there, and . . . never mind. My point is that . . . this whole thing with Kali and Laura. I mean, I thought maybe it was Kali and Laura, but not . . . Laura and Kali. If that makes sense."

"Oh." There's a pause. "_Oh_. Well." Justin clears his throat. "Yeah, lupa is always mutual. Like I said. Partners. It has to go both ways."

"Okay. Good. I was about to feel sorry for Kali for a minute. Can't have that."

"Actually, there's some logic to it," Justin muses. "I mean, Kali is a raging dyke – her words, not mine, so don't get up on me about political correctness – and I know that she and Laura went to school together when they were teenagers. But I never met Laura. That was a couple years before I joined the pack."

"Okay. Great. I still don't feel sorry for her."

"Wasn't asking you to," Justin said. "She and I have never gotten along, it wasn't just the thing with Yas. She didn't want me in the pack in the first place. Hell, after Trevor died she tried to kick me out of the alpha pack altogether. Ravinder had to step in and remind her that things don't work that way, and that guy hates having to voice an opinion or take a side. But, well . . . she's got kind of the whole 'born-wolf-better-than-thou' thing going on."

"Are the rest of the alphas all born wolves?" Stiles asks curiously. He figures he can get away with some questions, since Justin seems to be feeling talkative. He's gone into information-gathering mode now, and will keep asking things until Justin stops answering.

"Oh, God, no," Justin says. "Born wolves are really rare, you know. Only Kali and Ravinder are born wolves, although Mei was turned so young that she doesn't remember anything else. But, well, I come from sort of a different place than the others, and I think it helps me understand you and your pack better than the others, because I'm the only one in the pack who was turned against their will."

Stiles sucks in a breath. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well . . . over it now, you know? That was when I was nineteen. It was this creepy cult thing – the less you know, the better you'll feel. Anyway, I spent a really long time fighting against all the instincts, or trying to make them more human somehow. So I get it. If Trevor hadn't taken me into the alpha pack, I don't know what would've happened to me."

"Trevor was the previous pack leader?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah, for almost ten years, I think. Hunters got him about five years ago. Those assholes just follow us around, trying to pick us off. We've all had some bad experiences with hunters. That's why what you did pissed everyone off so bad."

"Dude," Stiles says, "you say that like I haven't had my fair share of bad experiences with hunters. The Argents have tried to kill virtually every person in this town that I care about. They shot Scott, twice, shot Derek, ran my father over with an SUV and sabotaged his recovery by poisoning him with wolfsbane, oh, and let's not forget that Kate Argent killed Derek's entire family."

"Fair," Justin says. "But you're going to fail the trial if you keep pulling shit like this."

"Justin . . . I'm not a wolf," Stiles says. "And you guys aren't here to judge my wolfiness. I can't be something I'm not. So . . . I'll get through this trial my own way."

"I can respect that," Justin says. "I hope for your sake that the others can too."

Stiles lets out a breath. "Okay. And I appreciate the warning."

They say their goodbyes and Stiles hangs up. He stares out into space, thinking, for a long minute. He thinks that maybe he's been going about this the wrong way. He doesn't just have to get the alphas to rule in his favor. He also has to give them a reason to defy Kali's judgment. Just liking him won't be enough. They also have to hate her. Justin's given him some ammunition now, but it won't be enough.

Eventually, he gets out of bed, wondering where his pack has gotten off to. He can feel them nearby, and none of them are in any sort of distress, beyond low levels of unease at the situation in general. So he takes his time getting ready to face the day. His shoulder is still stiff and sore, and after two attempts to get into a T-shirt make him grit his teeth in agony, he decides to go shirtless. What the hell, the others do it all the time, and he's not exactly the skinny, bony nerd he used to be.

When he jogs downstairs, he finds his father sitting at the kitchen table, drinking iced tea and making notes in a file. "Didn't think you were ever going to get up," he says, and there's a note of concern in his voice.

"Yeah, I must've been wiped," Stiles says. "Where is everyone?"

"They seemed restless," Stilinski says, "so I gave them some work to do."

Stiles' lips twitch as he hears the noise from the backyard. "Yard work, huh?"

"'Tis the season," his father agrees solemnly. Stiles tries to picture Derek mowing the lawn. It's difficult. He's not surprised, when he looks outside, to see that it's Isaac who's pushing the mower around. Scott is messing around in the garden by the back fence, pulling up weeds. Derek is applying a new coat of paint to the fence with precise, even strokes, his jaw set in that familiar unhappy expression.

"Hoo, sourwolf is sour today," Stiles says, and his father lets out a snort of laughter. "The girls?"

"Out sunbathing on the front lawn in an effort to give the twelve-year-old boy next door an aneurysm."

"No yard work for them?" Stiles asks.

"Do _you_ want to try to tell Lydia Martin she has to do yard work?"

Stiles does not. "Why did everybody let me sleep so late?" he asks. His father gives him a look over the rim of his glasses. "Yeah, okay, stupid question," Stiles grumps. "I'll just, uh, take some lemonade out to everybody. Yeah. Sounds like an excellent plan."

He gets a pitcher out of the cupboard. Their neighbor has a lemon tree, and Stiles prefers his lemonade homemade, so he gathers up the supplies and mixes a batch, then goes out into the backyard. Scott and Isaac pause in their work long enough to thank him, chug a glass, and go back to what they were doing. "Nice abs," Scott says. Stiles flips him off.

Derek doesn't stop scowling when Stiles approaches. He does accept the lemonade. When Stiles leans over to give him his customary hug of greeting, he gives him a little shove. "I'm all sweaty and gross, get off."

"'Kay," Stiles says, hugging tighter, and just like that, balance is restored to their relationship and all is right with the world.

He heads out to the front yard to find half the neighborhood subtly gawking at the three gorgeous young women who are spread out on lawn chairs. "Lemonade, ladies?" he asks.

"Bring it on," Erica says, sitting up and adjusting her sunglasses. Lydia sits up as well. Allison just makes a little mumbling noise; apparently she's fallen asleep. He elects not to bother her, giving glasses to the other two girls. He gives the neighbors a smile and a wave. The college kid two doors down who still lives with his mother is obviously wondering how he's pulled this off.

A little further down, there's a black SUV parked by the side of the road. It doesn't belong to any of their neighbors; he knows all their cars. His eyes narrow at it. "Is that . . . ?"

"Yep," Erica says. "I don't know if the pictures they're taking are for surveillance or fap material."

Stiles studies the car for a long minute, then says, "I think I'll go say hi."

Both girls groan in unison.

"Be right back," Stiles says, and goes back into the house. He takes the remaining lemonade, a stack of Dixie cups, and some of the cookies he had made several days previous. They're still good, if not fresh-out-of-the-oven-good. "Dad, do me a favor and come stand on the front porch and ostentatiously clean your shotgun," he says.

Sheriff Stilinski closes his eyes. "Do I even want to know why you're asking me to do that?"

"I just don't want to get shot today," Stiles says. As he leaves the house, he's thinking about what the hunters do. Vivien had said that they wait for them to be off their guard. Why do they need to do that, when they're hunting long-range? Why don't they just use their sniper rifles and have done with it?

Because alphas have superior healing capabilities, he decides. Even his own have been somewhat enhanced by his position, despite not actually being a wolf. A sniper rifle won't do the trick. They need chaos so they can sneak in and finish the job. He thinks about what Vivien had said, about how Trevor had 'gone down so easily' that they had been able to kill another member of his pack at the same time. From the picture he had gotten from Justin, it seemed like Trevor had been a good alpha. He's not sure what to make of the disparity, but files it away like he files everything away, waiting to see where the puzzle piece fits.

For this meeting, though, he could hardly ask for a better stage. The sunbathing girls have drawn half the people in the neighborhood as an audience. His father, the sheriff, with his labeled cruiser sitting in the driveway, is on the front porch. And here he is, bare-chested, obviously unarmed except for a pitcher of lemonade; he couldn't look any less threatening.

He walks over to the SUV. The windows are down, which is sensible because the car would turn into an oven otherwise. Either way, it looks pretty toasty inside. It's a gorgeous summer day, so it's in the eighties, and although the car is in the shade now, it would have been in the sun earlier. There are two men inside, both dressed in T-shirts and jeans. One is a little heavier than the other, and has obvious sweat stains on the shirt.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Stiles says. "You looked pretty hot, so I thought I would come over and offer you some refreshments."

The man in the passenger seat grunts. "Get lost, kid. Vivien told us you'd probably try this."

Stiles lifts a hand in surrender; the other is full. "No tricks. You know who I am. No problem. It's still really hot out today."

"No shit," the guy says.

Unfazed, Stiles pours lemonade into both of the Dixie cups. He holds one out. "It's not poisoned, I swear," he says, and knocks back one of the cups. "See?"

The driver reaches out and takes the other cup, then sips. "This is some good shit," he says.

"Homemade," Stiles tells him.

Now the man in the passenger seat is getting pissed off. "Get out of here, kid."

"Oh, come on, Luis, what's the harm?" The driver lets Stiles refill his cup. "He's just a fucking kid. If he isn't the least threatening werewolf I've ever seen, I'll eat the steering wheel."

Luis glares at Stiles. Stiles gives him a disarming smile in return.

"Vivien wouldn't like it," Luis finally says.

"Vivien didn't have to send the two of us to stake out a house where absolutely nothing is going to happen in a black car when it's eighty-five degrees out," the other man points out, "just because this kid stepped on her pride."

Luis takes a cup of lemonade. He takes a sip. Then he grunts. "Not bad."

"I'll just leave these with you, then," Stiles says, holding out the plate of cookies. "You don't even have to tell me whether or not you've eaten them. Keep the plate." He hands in the half-empty pitcher of lemonade. "Just so you know, none of us are planning on going anywhere today. Surveillance is pretty much unnecessary. And I think the girls would appreciate it if you would leave."

Luis is glaring at him. The driver says, "Sorry, kid, but Vivien gave us our marching orders."

"Suit yourselves," Stiles says, with a shrug. "I'll come back for the pitcher later."

"Hey, kid," the driver says, as he starts away, and Stiles turns. "You know this doesn't change anything."

Stiles gives a shrug. "Everything changes something. That's how the universe works."

As he walks away, he thinks about calling Chris Argent and letting him know that the hunters were taking pictures of his daughter, sleeping in a bikini. He decides to save that for later.

* * *

The next morning, Stiles wakes to a text from Justin that says, 'Need a place to meet for third trial. Quiet, private. Don't need a lot of space. Will be talking. Suggestions?'

Stiles blinks at this somewhat perplexing text for almost a full minute, wracking his brain for any sort of task that would require this sort of space. Derek's is really too small to fit fourteen people into. His own would work, but only barely. He doesn't really want the alphas knowing where any of the others live, so that leaves out Lydia's and Scott's, both of which would have enough room.

After a few minutes to think it over, he texts Justin back to say, 'Outside okay?'

'As long as it's private.'

Stiles texts him back his address. They can sit out in the backyard. It's certainly been landscaped into oblivion, thanks to the restlessness of the pack. The weather is good. 'Time?'

'8 PM,' Justin texts back.

'Ok,' Stiles replies. He goes downstairs and delivers the news to the others. Several people say "already?" and even Derek looks a little surprised that they're being called on again so soon. But since the task will involve 'talking', it can't be that strenuous. Stiles suspects that a trap is there, somewhere, but he won't know where until he gets there. "Hey, Dad, are you working tonight?" he asks.

"I'm on duty until six," his father says, "so I'll be here unless something major happens."

"Okay, cool."

Scott has to work, everybody's got cabin fever, and to be fair, they're all kind of sick of looking at each other for a while. Being pack makes them social animals, but they're still at least partly human underneath it, and being together _all_ the time can scrape at their nerves. Stiles still doesn't want anybody going out alone, but is content to let them break into pairs. At least it'll piss the hunters off.

So he takes his laptop down to Derek's studio and plays World of Warcraft and Plants Versus Zombies while Derek works on one of his paintings. Lydia and Allison go down to the salon because Lydia insists on looking her best no matter what else is going on in her life. Allison isn't as fashion-conscious, but she does like a mani-pedi once in a while. Erica decides against going with them because Isaac wants to go to the comic book store and check out some new releases, and can't go by himself. Besides, Erica likes going to the comic book store. She likes watching the boys stare at her.

They putter around and do their own thing for a while. Stiles stops by the grocery store on the way home and plans for a late dinner. Since the alphas aren't coming until eight, he assumes that they plan on eating first. So he grills hamburgers and makes some corn on the cob and a salad. His father gets home from work a little before six thirty, and they sit around and eat in mostly tense silence.

The alphas are prompt; Stiles will give them that much. He opens the front door to find the entire pack standing there, and stands back to let them in. "Welcome to my humble abode," he says, determined to act like nothing had happened the day before. Kali looks as pissed off as ever, and the others are mostly neutral. "There's room for all of us out back."

The Stilinski household does not have fourteen chairs in it, so instead Stiles has laid down some blankets on the freshly cut grass. There's plenty of room for all of them to sprawl out. "So what are we doing here?" he asks, after they've all gotten settled.

It's Ravinder who answers, in his usual matter-of-fact tone. "A traditional part of the trial involves speaking to the betas without their alpha present, to hear their own opinions," he says.

"Oh," Stiles says. "Oh, should I go, then?"

Ravinder clears his throat and says, "For your trial, we have decided you may stay. Kali . . ."

"Kali wants a demonstration of your self-control," Justin says flatly, "so your job is to sit there and keep quiet."

"Oh, geez," Stiles says. "I'm not very good at being quiet."

There's a little jittery laughter from the rest of the pack. Lydia leans over and gives him a friendly nudge on the shoulder.

"Well," Kali says, with a vicious smile, "you _will_ stay quiet. No matter what they say about you. If you speak even one word, the interviews are over."

Stiles mimes zipping his mouth closed.

"The reason it's usually done without the alpha present is so he can't intimidate his betas into giving false answers to make him sound more competent," Kali says, then adds in a haughty tone, "since that obviously won't be a problem here, we figured it'd be all right if you stuck around. The rest of you, just try not to lie too much. We'll be able to tell, you know."

Lydia opens her mouth, probably to say something about the scientific value of polygraphs, faking a baseline, and the impossibility of hearing one separate heartbeat in a space with fourteen people, but then decides she would be wasting her intelligence. She settles for rolling her eyes instead.

"Just answer honestly," Mei says quietly. "If your alpha is worthy of your respect, that is all we need to know."

This time it's Derek who shifts uncomfortably, but then gives a terse nod.

Ravinder arranges himself Indian-style, folds his hands in his lap, and says, "Did you willingly accept Stiles as your alpha?"

"Yes," Derek says. They go around the pack, and each of them replies in the affirmative.

"And you knew at the time that he was not a wolf?" Ravinder asks, and again receives an affirmative answer from everyone. Kali crosses her arms over her chest and glares. "Forgive the tender subject, but at least some of you were turned against your will, is that correct?" he asks. Scott and Lydia both nod, and Scott half-raises his hand, as if he were in class. "But you both chose to remain in the pack."

"And would again," Lydia says, and Scott nods.

"And you?" Ravinder turns to Isaac and Erica. "Would you explain the circumstances under which you were turned?"

Neither of them really enjoy talking about it, but Isaac gives them the bare bones of how lonely he was and the way his father treated him, and Erica tells them about her epilepsy. Even the twins look a little impressed with how the pack sought out these lost souls and offered them a home, the moreso after Isaac says, "And Stiles made it clear to me that I didn't even have to get bitten to be part of the pack. I could have just joined as a human, like Allison did."

"Then why did you want the bite?" Yasmin asks.

Isaac gives a little shrug. "I wanted to be stronger. To help the pack be stronger. I didn't really want to feel like . . . I wasn't contributing."

"What he said," Erica says, "with a side order of 'wow, I'd really like to stop having seizures'."

"What happened to your dad afterwards?" Ethan asks Isaac.

Isaac just blinks at him. "What . . . what do you mean 'what happened to him'?"

"Well . . . what did you do to him?" Aiden asks. "Didn't you want revenge?"

"No," Isaac says, giving them a funny look. "He's still my _father_. I just . . . didn't want to let him hurt me anymore. I moved out of my house and started bouncing around with the pack, that's all. He did get arrested when Stiles' father went to tell him I wouldn't be coming home, and he got pissed off, but in the end he just got a fine and some community service."

"Anger management classes," Scott reminds him. "Though I think that was just Papa Stilinski being a dick, to be honest . . ."

Stiles sniggers, then covers his mouth with his hand.

"Cut all this bullshit," Kali interrupts. Erica almost rises to her feet, but manages to check herself at the last minute. "Let's talk about the fact that your precious human alpha isn't your garden variety human. That asshole is a _hunter_."

"No, he isn't," Scott says.

"A hunter, by definition, is one who hunts," Lydia says, twining a strand of hair around her perfectly manicured fingers. "Therefore, Stiles is not a hunter."

"Oh, fuck you and your semantics," Kali says. "He uses hunter weapons. He trained with the Argents. That's enough to make him a motherfucking hunter."

Stiles opens his mouth and a sarcastic remark _almost_ falls out of his mouth. He manages to snap his jaws shut around it at the last second.

"So what?" Erica asks. "We all learn that stuff."

"You _all_ do?" the twins blurt out in unison.

"Well, yeah," Allison says. She blinks at them while they give her a funny look. "Uh . . . you guys do know that I'm an Argent, right?"

"You're _what_?" Kali recoils from her, although her expression is one of disgust, not fear. "You filthy bitch – "

"Hey!" Scott's already in partially shifted form and on his feet. "Don't talk to my girlfriend that way, you – "

Derek grabs Scott by the back of the shirt and yanks him back onto the blanket. Scott turns and snarls at him, then sees the strained look on Stiles' face as he fights against intervening. Derek hasn't bothered to shift, but he looks at Kali and says, in an even, measured tone, "I think we would all appreciate it if you didn't refer to our pack member that way."

Justin starts laughing. It's little snickers at first, but before long it's moved onto full-blown chortles. "Oh, God," he says. "You guys really take the cake, don't you. A human alpha. The last surviving Hale. An _Argent_. Christ on a cracker jack."

Kali gives him a dirty look, but Justin's mirth is contagious, and soon Mei and Yasmin are giggling, too. The twins still look somewhat aghast, but even Ravinder's lips are twitching. "So you teach the hunting techniques to the others?" he says.

Allison nods. "My dad trains me, I come back and show the others. He knows I do it, but he pretends he doesn't to save his pride. It's where we get a lot of our hand-to-hand combat skills."

"We learned how to escape from their traps," Scott adds, "although the traps aren't a big deal anymore, since they don't set them up in the woods around here anymore. Stiles blackmailed the local hunters into not hunting on our territory, so we're pretty safe here."

"Plus we learned antidotes for a lot of the wolfy poisons," Lydia says.

Kali looks like she's about ready to explode. "Wow, that's fantastic," she says, her voice dripping contempt. "Totally worth looking the other way while the hunters kill our kind."

Derek reaches out and begins to gently pry Stiles' hand open. Stiles looks down and realizes that he was clenching his fists so tightly that his nails were starting to dig into his skin. There are specks of blood on his palms. Derek doesn't look at him while he does this, and perhaps isn't even doing it consciously. To Kali, he says, "We're not responsible for what hunters do outside our territory. Our job is to keep our pack safe, and that's what we're doing."

"I see that your cowardice is hitting new lows, Derek," Kali says, smiling sweetly at him.

Derek gives her a long, unblinking stare, before saying, "I can still smell the silver on you."

"Oh, _burn_!" Erica says, laughing in that brief moment when Kali is too stunned to reply.

The moment doesn't last long. Kali practically flies across the patch of lawn between them to take Derek in a full tackle. Isaac and Scott both grab Stiles before he can intervene, and Derek doesn't fight back. He just gives her that same stare as she snarls down at him.

"Kali!" Ravinder's voice is sharp. "You will do no violence to the betas. The truce applies both ways, as you well know."

Kali snarls at him, as well, but gets off Derek and returns to her spot on the blanket. The alphas watch as Derek sits back up and dusts off his jacket, then leans over to rub a comforting hand over Stiles' hair. Stiles lets out a shuddering breath, and his fists clench and relax. Then he gives Derek a nod to indicate that he's okay.

"Are we done here?" Derek asks, but he directs the question to the alpha pack as a whole, not Kali.

"One more question," Ravinder says. "If the alpha selection process were different. If it were done democratically, for instance. Would you choose a different alpha? Even from among other wolves you have met, not merely amongst yourselves."

"No," Lydia says immediately.

"_Fuck_ no," Erica adds.

"Yeah, we thought Derek was going to be alpha and that was going to be a freakin' disaster," Scott says, and there's a chorus of nervous giggles. "We wouldn't have anyone else."

Isaac hunches up a little and says. "I wouldn't want a different alpha. Stiles accepted me. He accepted all of us."

"Even me," Allison agrees. "Stiles is the alpha, and that's the way it should be."

There's a moment of silence. "Derek?" Ravinder prompts. "Would you choose a different alpha?"

"Yes," Derek says quietly, and Stiles feels like he's been punched in the stomach. Then Derek looks over at him, meets and holds his gaze. "If Laura . . . were still alive. She would be my alpha. But no one else. Not ever."

Stiles lets out a breath. It hurts, but it hurts them both, and it's okay. He would never ask Derek to choose his sister over himself.

"And . . ." Derek says. "I think if Laura was alive, she would tell me to stay with Stiles. I think . . . that he's the right alpha for me. And maybe once there's more time between me and Laura's death . . . maybe I'll be okay with that too."

Stiles can't help it, he _can't_, not when he can feel Derek's pain in every inch of his body. But he's lucky, because when he opens his mouth to say something, the only thing that comes out is a choked little noise. Then he remembers that he's not supposed to talk, and bites down on his lip. He leans over and rests his head in the hollow of Derek's shoulder.

"Very well, then." Ravinder rises to his feet, presses his hands together, and makes a slight bow. "Namaste," he says, and turns to go. The others rise to their feet as well in silence. Stiles can hear them leaving, although he's not looking at them. He can also hear that Kali _isn't_ leaving. He can hear the fierce beat of her heart as rage thunders through her chest.

"You – " she starts.

"Don't," Derek says. "You lost this fight before you even showed up tonight, Kali. It doesn't matter what you say to me. I won't lose control again. Not when my pack is at stake."

"Fucking _pussy_," Kali spits out. She turns on her heel and marches out, slamming the side gate behind herself. "This isn't fucking over! This trial is going to kill all of you, and if it doesn't, I will!"

"And your little dog, too," Stiles murmurs, the first words he's spoken in an hour. Then he dissolves into snickers. Before long, they're all laughing. He crawls into Derek's lap because screw it, he doesn't need to be manly right now. Derek wraps an arm around his waist, but he certainly isn't allowed to monopolize Stiles, because the others are pressing in on all sides. "Awww, group hug!" Stiles says, as he's swarmed.

"Shut the fuck up," Erica says, grinning at him.

"I've shut the fuck up for an _hour_, now I'm going to talk all night – "

"That's different from usual how?" Isaac asks.

Stiles gives him a light punch to the shoulder. Once they've all let him go, he says, hesitantly, "Hey, did you guys – "

"If you seriously are planning to ask 'did you mean what you said'," Lydia says, "we will make the school hold you back a year because it will be obvious that you are a _moron_."

"Another year with Harris," Stiles says, and shudders. "God forbid."

Scott snorts and shakes his head. "C'mon, let's go make some popcorn and see what's on TV."


	7. Chapter 7

Action scenes aren't really my specialty (I'm sort of like Stiles himself that way, heh) so here's hoping that this chapter came out okay! It, um, went some unexpected places, really . . .

* * *

Chapter Seven

Sheriff Stilinski doesn't say it outright, but seems to be more comfortable with the idea of the pack staying at the house, rather than going back to Derek's apartment. Nobody has any particular argument, since they stay at the Stilinski house frequently. Neither Scott's mother nor Erica's parents are thrilled about the fact that they haven't been home in a week, so they split up again the following day. Erica and Lydia go back to Erica's house to do some chores, or at least for Erica to do them, and help her mother bake a pie for the neighborhood picnic. Allison, Scott, and Isaac go back to Scott's house so they can be thoroughly, lovingly lectured on why all this werewolf business needs to stop. Stiles just hangs out at his own house while Derek and his father have manly discussions about baseball and Derek helps his dad with a cabinet he's attempting to build.

Everyone comes back around the dinner hour, because they always do. They're staying up late watching a movie when Stiles gets a text. It has a set of GPS coordinates and the words '11:30 pm bring your pack no weapons if any1 shows up armed especially that Argent bitch I'll fail you for not being able to control your pack'

Feeling rather miffed, Stiles texts back, 'Who is this?'

Immediately, he receives the reply, 'its Kali u dumb shit'.

He considers saying something witty about how he should have guessed from the grammar, but decides it would go over her head. Instead he just texts back with 'Just checking. We'll be there.'

The others are watching him play with his phone, and when he's done texting, he says, "Yeah, 11:30. Looks like it's somewhere out in the woods." He plugs it into the GPS and says, "Not too far from the Hale house. At least we know where we're going."

"Why are all these trials at night?" Scott asks. "I have to freakin' work tomorrow."

"Cry me a river," Stiles says, feeling grumpy. His father is working, so nobody else is home. They finish the movie around half past ten and head out to their respective cars. "No weapons?" Stiles says.

Allison huffs and removes the crossbow strapped to her thigh.

"That's the only one?" Stiles presses.

"Yeah," she says. She sticks her tongue out at him. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

"What about you?" Derek asks, his voice stiff and angry, which is the way it usually gets when he's masking anxiety.

"I'm clean," Stiles says, with a sigh. He'd feel a hell of a lot better with some kind of weapon, but doesn't dare challenge Kali on it specifically.

They take Stiles' jeep and Allison's car, which can handle the dirt roads better than Derek's little sports car. They park on the side of a forest road as close as they can get to the GPS coordinates, which is still a good mile away, and walk the rest of the way. The forest is dark and silent. The moon is up, but the canopy of trees prevents it from shedding much light. Stiles has a few flashlights that he brought, though, so it's not too bad.

"Okay, here's the spot," Stiles says, looking around. It doesn't seem to be anything remarkable at all. It's not even really a clearing. There are plenty of trees, mostly evergreens. None of the alphas are there. He pulls out his phone and glances at the time. It's 11:23. "We're a little early, so I guess we should just chill out and wait."

"My favorite activity," Isaac says, leaning against a tree. Stiles sighs and glances at his phone. It only has one bar.

They stand around in silence for a little while, and then Erica mentions something funny that happened at the picnic that day, when her father was grumbling over noisy children. Scott tells a story about someone who had come into the clinic that day, a hulking biker in full leathers carrying a tiny gray kitten he had found by the side of the road.

Stiles watches the minutes tick by. It's 11:30, then 11:35, then 11:45. "Jesus," he mutters, irritated with having to wait. He thinks about calling Kali, changes his mind, and tries Justin. It takes three tries for the call to go through. Then he says, "Hey, is the point of this to see how long we're willing to sit around in the forest and wait for your late asses?"

There's a moment of hesitation, and Justin's voice is obviously confused as he says, "Uh, what are you talking about?"

Stiles freezes. He looks around at his pack, all standing around in a loose circle in the middle of the forest, unarmed and vulnerable. He crams his phone back into his pocket and says, "Guys, we have to go, _now_."

Normally they might have asked why, or what was going on, but Stiles being the alpha gives him an edge where that's concerned. Those who are sitting down immediately get to their feet, and Erica hops down from the tree branch she's climbed onto. Stiles turns to start jogging back towards their cars, and that's when the gunshots start.

It's complete and utter chaos for the first ten seconds, and then they're over a small rise and Stiles has his back pressed against a tree, keeping it between himself and the hunters. "Everybody okay?" he shouts, trying not to panic, because he can feel that at least some of them are not okay.

"Me and Allison are fine," Scott calls back.

"I'm hit," Isaac says, his voice strained.

"Me too." Lydia sounds thin and thready. "Got me in the leg."

"Okay here," Erica calls out, and Derek does the same.

Stiles hears a gruesome crack as Lydia jerks her leg back into place. She makes a tiny little whimper. "Bullet went straight through," she says. "Give me a minute and I'll be on my feet."

"Isaac?" Stiles shouts.

"I'm with him," Derek says. "He's gut shot. We'll need to get the bullet out."

"Wolfsbane?" Stiles feels the panic rising in his throat.

"No," Derek says, and he can breathe again. "We need cover."

Stiles opens his mouth to reply, but then there's another spate of gunfire. He holds his knees to his chest and tries not to freak out. He can hear his breath whistling in his throat. Finally, all is silent. "Son of a bitch," he whispers. "The Hale house isn't far. Can we make it?"

"Not pinned down like this," Derek says. "We'll be sitting ducks."

Stiles knows that he's right. The moon is higher now, shedding more light. The snipers could be in trees for all he knows, just sitting there waiting to pick them off. He can't really tell what direction the gunfire was coming from. As soon as they start to move, they'll be easy targets, even running. He knows from Allison's training that they practice with fast-moving targets. He wracks his brain for some sort of solution, distracted by some damned owl hooting not far away.

"Wait, wait," Allison says, her voice low and breathy. "I know that noise. That's a hunter call."

"They have a bird language or something?" Scott asks, keeping his own voice quiet so the hunters won't hear.

"Yeah. Yeah." Allison is quiet for a minute. The owl call comes again. "It means, uhm . . . that one is 'disperse and surround'."

"They're going to try to get ahead of us," Lydia says.

"Which means they're moving right now," Stiles adds, and Allison responds in the affirmative. "Lydia, how's your leg?"

"Seems okay," she replies.

"Okay then." Stiles keeps his voice very quiet, knowing the wolves will hear him, and not wanting the hunters to catch on to their plan. "Derek, you lead; you know the woods best. The rest of us will cover each other in pairs. Scott with Allison, Lydia with Isaac, and Erica with me. Clear?" He gets a chorus of affirmatives. "Go."

Derek takes off like a shot. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lydia's half-shifted face as she scoops up Isaac and helps him. Isaac's got pain tolerance much higher than the average wolf or human; he's strained but moving on his own. Stiles finds Erica and grabs her hand so they won't be separated, and the two of them run for it. He and Allison can't be quite as fast as the wolves, but they're not slowpokes, either.

There's more gunfire. In front of him, he sees Allison stumble and fall, but quickly scramble back to her feet. There's a high-pitched whistling noise and sudden, sharp pain in his ear. He nearly falls, but Erica gives his arm a yank, wrenches him around, and keeps him on his feet. Splinters of trees spray in his face as a bullet impacts in a tree not far from him, but they're all okay, they're all still running. Without a firm place to take a shot from, and forced to give chase, the hunters can't aim as well. He can vaguely see Derek in the distance, and then the Hale house looms up in front of them.

Derek runs up the stairs and busts through the door without even bothering to open it, and the others bolt in after him. He slams what's left of the door behind him, and they gather in what used to be the living room, all of them panting for breath. Derek's nostrils flare and he snarls, rounding on Stiles. "You're hurt."

"Just my ear," Stiles says, but when he lifts his hand to the side of his head, it comes away covered in blood. "Shit."

"I'm hit, too," Allison says, her voice thin and taut with pain. Scott turns and grabs her as she starts to sink to the floor. Blood is starting to pool around one of her feet. "Holy shit," she says, and gives a hysterical giggle. "I think I got shot in the ass."

As it turns out, a bullet grazed her hip, where she fortunately had just enough padding that it didn't break the bone. She's got a gash almost four inches long and half an inch deep. Stiles is amazed she was able to keep running, but he knows that adrenaline can do amazing things, and finding shelter would have taken precedence over everything else. He takes a moment to be thoroughly glad it happened the way it did, because if Scott had realized she was wounded before they had taken cover, he would have gone after whoever did it. But now, out of the firefight, his training as a medic is overriding the more primal instincts. He's got Allison out of her pants and has stripped his shirt over his head to make a compress to try to stop the bleeding.

Stiles realizes that it might be a good idea if he does something similar. He pulls off his own shirt and presses it against the side of his head. Derek has helped Isaac to the floor, but he's got his eyes on Stiles. There's silence outside for a long minute, and then another gunshot. Stiles can see the hole the bullet made in the front door.

"We can wait, you know!" It's Vivien's voice, high and tense with excitement and bloodlust. "There's nowhere you can go, you filthy animals!"

"She's right," Erica whispers. "They'll surround the house."

"Yeah, but they don't dare come in," Stiles murmurs. "It's a Mexican standoff."

"So what do we do?" Scott asks, sounding panicked. "Allison needs an ambulance."

"Then we call a God damned ambulance," Stiles says. "What else would a group of teenagers in the woods do when some crazies start shooting at them? Call the fucking police." He takes out his phone, considers, and shakes his head. "Lydia, you call 911," he says. "Play it up. This is going to play at their court case, and I want it to sound good."

Lydia blinks at him, then gets what he means. She nods and takes out her phone, jabbing at the buttons. A moment later, she starts to speak, her voice high and hysterical. "Oh, oh my God, please send help, someone's shooting at us – "

She has it on speaker, so they can all hear the operator say, "Miss, calm down and tell me where you are."

"I, I don't know," Lydia sobs. "My friends, we were out in the woods fooling around and these people just started _shooting_ at us, I don't even know who they are – can't you use my GPS or something, oh God, I don't wanna die – "

"Okay, miss, I'm pulling that information up now." The operator sounds determinedly calm. "Is anyone hurt?"

"Yes," Lydia says. "Yes, two, two of my friends have been shot, my, one says he's okay, it just clipped him, but Allison can't walk, I think it got her leg and she's _bleeding_ everywhere – "

"Okay, hon," the operator says. "We've got an ambulance en route along with police. Can you describe to me where you are?"

"It's this old abandoned house, we just saw it while we were running . . ." There's a burst of gunfire and Lydia lets out a very convincing scream. Erica screams too, and Isaac lets out a surprised cry that's really only half faked. "Oh my _God_, they're still out there, they're still shooting – "

Stiles tunes her out. There are other things he needs to be doing. He dials his own phone and his father picks up a minute later. "I'm busy, Stiles, I – "

"Let me guess," Stiles says, "you're on your way to a shooting?"

There's a pregnant pause, and then Sheriff Stilinski groans. "Don't _tell_ me – "

"It's not my fault," Stiles says, "but yeah. The hunters ambushed us. We're okay, mostly, a little light damage, definitely gonna need an ambulance or two. But Isaac's gut-shot and in a minute I'm going to have to deal with that – "

"Isaac's been _shot_?" Stilinski interrupts. Although he would never play favorites amongst the pack, he has a soft spot for Isaac.

"Dad, he's a werewolf, he'll be fine," Stiles says. "Allison's hurt, too. Listen, I _want_ these bastards. Turn your lights and sirens off. If you come up blazing, they'll run before you can catch them."

"Jesus," Stilinski mutters. "How long can you hold out?"

"We're holed up in the Hale house," Stiles says. "I don't know if they'll come in after us. I wouldn't want to be here more than another fifteen minutes unless we really have to be. We can take care of ourselves if they try to get in, but if any of the hunters get hurt, they'll try to claim we started it, and then we'll have God damned hunters around all the time."

"Okay. I have to call for some backup, but I'll be there as soon as I can. How many are there?"

Stiles thinks about it. At least two of the hunters are probably still watching the alpha pack, wherever they are, and there are only five total. "I guess two or three."

"No, there's five," Derek says. "There were gunshots coming from five distinct places, from five distinct guns."

"All five of them are here?" Stiles asks. That puts things in a different light. Why would the hunters have done that? Unless . . . he curses. "Unless they knew we were all going to be here, completely unarmed, mother of _fuck_, I am going to make Kali pay for this."

"Stiles, I have to go," Sheriff Stilinski says. "You hold tight. I'll be there soon."

"Okay." Stiles tucks his phone away. Lydia is still on with the 911 operator, though she's calmed down her hysterics and is now putting on a 'brave face', obviously thinking of how impressed a jury will be with this terrified teenaged girl who is nonetheless obeying instructions from the operator about putting pressure on a wound and keeping her injured friend from going into shock. Allison's hyperventilating a little, but she seems okay, so Stiles turns his attention to Isaac.

"We have to get the bullet out before the paramedics get here," Derek says. "Scott?"

"I'm busy," Scott snaps at him, from where he's tending to Allison.

"Scott, I'm okay," Allison says. "You go see to Isaac."

Scott hesitates, but then Lydia takes the bloodied shirt out of his hands and presses it against Allison's wound, so he nods and jogs over. Isaac is lying on his back on the charred floor. Derek has stripped his shirt off and is pressing it against the wound to try to slow the bleeding. It's obvious that Isaac's in a great deal of pain, and he snaps and snarls when Scott approaches. Derek waves Stiles over. "Keep him calm," he says.

Stiles isn't sure how that'll work, but he nods and takes Isaac's hand in his own, leaning over into his field of view. Erica crouches down beside him and takes Stiles' shirt so she can continue to apply pressure to his bleeding ear, freeing Stiles' hands up for Isaac's care. "Hey, Isaac, how ya doin'?" he asks, and Isaac focuses on him. He nods a little. His grip on Stiles' hand is so tight that it's painful, and Stiles hastily transfers it to Derek's before Isaac can break his fingers. "Scott's just going to fish that bullet out, I won't lie, it's gonna hurt like a son of a bitch, but just hang in there, okay?" Stiles says. Isaac nods again and Scott's claws are out, digging into Isaac's abdomen. Isaac howls, his spine bowing as he thrashes to escape. Stiles grabs him by the chin and makes Isaac look at him. "You are going to be _fine_," he states firmly. "You just stay with me, okay? Stay with me, Isaac. You can do this. And when we get out of here, I'm going to find the guy who did this to you and I'm going to put his ass through a meat grinder. When I'm done with him, he'll wish he had never heard of Beacon Hills."

Isaac makes a whining, shuddering sound, and then Scott says, "I got it," and pulls his hand free, clutching a bullet, his fingers dripping blood and most likely less pleasant substances. Isaac gasps in relief and sags back against the floor. Stiles rubs a hand through his hair and continues to keep him calm until the wound is starting to heal.

From outside, they hear Vivien call, "How long are you going to hide in there? Come out and fight! It's five against seven, those are damned decent odds, right?"

Derek looks at the door and snarls. Stiles shakes his head and frowns. "Don't," he says. "Even if we could do it without casualties, which we can't, it'll only make things worse if we start knocking off hunters, and you know it. It'll be our word against theirs. They can always claim that we started it."

With a low growl, Derek subsides. Isaac is looking a little glassy-eyed, but overall better. Allison's teeth are clenched against the pain, and Lydia's up to her elbows in the other girl's blood, but she's still conscious and coherent. Scott is alternating between her and Isaac, making sure they're both comfortable and neither of them are going into shock. Erica's still holding the compress against Stiles' ear. Stiles finally looks at Derek long enough to notice the red splotches on his shirt, and the sizable hole in the left shoulder. "Were you hit?" he asks.

"Bullet went right through," Derek says tersely. "Already healed."

"Son of a bitch," Stiles growls, but he supposes that it stands to reason. The hunters would have to have good aim to be considered any good at their trade. He gets to his feet, grabbing his shirt from Erica, and goes over to the window. "You're doing this wrong!" he shouts back to Vivien. "You're supposed to say that you'll huff, and you'll puff, and you'll blow our house down! Only, wait. Which one of us are the wolves again? I keep losing track of all the different people trying to friggin' kill me!"

Erica lets out a snigger. Scott rolls his eyes at Stiles.

There's another round of gunfire. Stiles starts to wonder how many bullets they brought. They're being more sparing of their ammunition now, using just enough to keep them pinned. Stiles wonders what their game plan is. Are they going to circle around? Try to sneak someone into the house? Try to burn the whole damned place down again? If he even smells smoke, Derek will lose it.

After a lengthy period of silence, Stiles is considering another taunt. He wants to know where the hunters are, and if he can get them to respond, that will at least tell him something. But then, all of a sudden, he hears his father's voice on a megaphone. "This is the police! We have you surrounded. Put your weapons down and come out with your hands on your head!"

"Booyah!" Stiles starts singing 'Flight of the Valkyries'. "That's my dad, assholes!"

There isn't any gunfire, which doesn't surprise him. In situations like this, hunters would probably prefer to beat feet than shoot at law enforcement. Gerard was a special kind of crazy when he went after the sheriff; most hunters wouldn't dare. He sits tight, and then his dad, no longer on the megaphone, shouts from the porch. "Stiles, are you in there?"

"Yeah, we're here, Dad," Stiles says, and a few moments later they're being swarmed by paramedics. Isaac and Derek have both fully healed, and their shirts have been 'reappropriated' for additional compresses, so nobody will notice that they're wearing torn, blood-stained clothing but not injured. When Lydia was shot in the leg, her clothes weren't damaged, since she was wearing a short skirt. The blood on her shoes could be anybody's.

Sheriff Stilinski focuses on the bloody side of Stiles' head like a hawk. "You didn't tell me you were hurt," he says.

"'Tis but a flesh wound," Stiles says, in his best Monty Python voice. His father is seriously unamused, so he adds, "No, really, it just clipped my ear of all places."

"Better your ear than your ass," Erica says, as the paramedics get Allison loaded onto a stretcher. Scott is telling them about her injury in a rapid, professional tone.

"True," Stiles says. "What happened out there?"

"Well, nobody came out with their hands up," Stilinski says, "but we got three of them on the way out. All men."

Stiles makes a face. It doesn't surprise him that Vivien managed to sneak away. "Take their phones," he says. "They may have pictures of us on them."

Stilinski nods. He focuses on the others and says, "The rest of you are okay?" The question is mostly directed at Isaac, though they're all included.

Isaac nods. "I'm okay, Papa Stilinski, sir."

"Good." Sheriff Stilinski reaches out and gives Isaac's shoulder a squeeze, then pulls Stiles into a rough hug. "You. Go with the paramedics. They'll need to document your injuries at the hospital even if it's not serious." Stiles nods. "I'll see you at the station later."

"Don't start the party without me," Stiles says.

Stilinski arches his eyebrows at his son. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

Once Stiles is in the ambulance on his way to the hospital, and the adrenaline starts to wear off, he realizes his head hurts like a son of a bitch. His ankle hurts, too, and when he mentions this to the paramedic, they take a look. "Pretty badly swollen," he says, giving it a gentle squeeze that knocks all the air out of Stiles' lungs. "I don't think it's broken, though. Did you fall?"

Stiles thinks back to their mad flight through the woods and decides it probably happened when the bullet clipped him. The force of it had spun him in one direction, and Erica had pulled him in the other. He tells the paramedic this, and he nods and makes a little note. All of them are crammed into the two ambulances, because they've been told that they will all be thoroughly checked for injuries just in case. So Stiles is riding with Derek, Erica, and Isaac, while Scott, Allison, and Lydia are in the other.

Scott calls his mother on the way to the hospital, so she's prepared to receive them. Stiles has to go get his ankle x-rayed. Derek insists on going with him. The orderlies give him odd looks, but most of the people there know Stiles, both through Melissa and through his own misadventures the winter before, so they put up with it. The others all get checked out while Allison is carted off to have her wound cleaned and stitched up. Scott stays with her.

As it turns out, the paramedic was correct. Stiles' ankle is badly sprained, but not broken. They wrap it up and give him some painkillers and crutches. His ear receives three stitches. Half of his earlobe is gone, and he finds this strangely distressing. "Will it grow back?" he asks the doctor, who gives him a funny look. "Well, I hope I never wanted to get my ear pierced," Stiles grumbles.

He's being wheeled back out into the waiting room with Derek in tow when they nearly run face-first into Chris Argent, who looks pissed as hell. Stiles hastily says, "Derek can get me back out to the lobby, Jenny," and the orderly smiles and says okay, relinquishing his wheelchair to the other man.

"What happened?" Chris snaps, as soon as Jenny's gone. "What did those animals do to my daughter, you little – "

"Mr. Argent," Stiles tries to interrupt.

" – I'm not going to just sit on my thumbs while you're involving my daughter in this bullshit, I don't care what you think about her being in your pack, I don't appreciate being woken up at one o'clock in the morning because my daughter's in the emergency room – "

"It's not – "

"And I don't care what you think about it or what happens to your stupid 'trial', I'm going to have these alphas with their heads on pikes – "

Derek is starting to growl, and Stiles hefts himself out of the chair and gets in Chris' face to shut him up. "Do you know why your daughter is here?"

"Because you and your – "

"No!" Stiles practically shouts. "She is here because she has been _shot_. With a _bullet_. Fired from a _gun_."

The color drains from Chris' face. He says, carefully, "What?"

"The group of us were just hanging out in the forest minding our own business when the little gang of hunters staying at your house ambushed us," Stiles says. "We didn't do _anything_ to them and they opened fire, all five of them. Nearly everyone in my pack was hurt tonight, so let me tell you, Mr. Argent, however unhappy you are about your daughter being hurt, I can promise you that I am at least that unhappy too."

Chris' jaw is clenched, and there's that little tic that Stiles sees when the other man is furious but doesn't want to show it. "I see," he finally says.

"So if you're quite done yelling at me for something that's not even remotely my fault," Stiles says, "you go see to your daughter, and I'll go see to my pack, and in an hour or so, I'll meet you at the police station, where three of Vivien's men are in custody, and we will deal with the shit together. Okay?"

There's a pause. Then Chris nods. "Okay," he says, and starts walking again.

Stiles thumps back into the chair. Derek pushes him out into the waiting room. Erica, Isaac, and Lydia are all there already. They've each been checked out and proclaimed uninjured. Erica's parents and Lydia's mother are there as well, because the hospital called them. They sit and wait for a little while before Scott comes out, looking exhausted. "How's Allison?" six voices immediately clamor.

"She's okay," Scott says. "They're all done with her stitches. They're just going to keep her overnight, they said, but they don't anticipate any complications."

"Okay." Stiles rises to his feet and hefts his crutches. He looks around at his pack. Lydia and Isaac are both obviously tired, probably because of the healing they had to do. He gestures to them and says, "Why don't you two stay here and keep Scott and Allison company, while the rest of us go back to the station and talk to my dad?"

This is quickly agreed upon. Erica's parents reluctantly agree to go home, since they've already talked to Sheriff Stilinski and been assured that the perpetrators are in custody. Stiles doesn't know what Erica told them, and he doesn't ask. He just turns to Scott and says quietly, "Make sure nobody talks to the police until I've had a chance to nail everything down with my father. In theory, nobody will come to question you guys without his say-so anyway, but . . ."

Scott nods and says he'll make sure Allison knows. They give each other a brief bro-hug before Stiles hobbles out to his car. His father had had a couple of the officers pick it up and drive it to the hospital for him. They'll have to go get Allison's car later. Derek drives, since Stiles can't use his right leg. Erica has to help him into the backseat with her. He grumbles about this, but allows it. "So what do you mean about getting things 'nailed down' with your dad?" Erica asks.

Stiles grins at her. "I'm going to bury these sons of bitches," he says.

"Yeah, we know _that_," Erica says, laughing. "But can you be a little more specific?"

"Well, the reason I don't want anyone talking to the cops is just because I want to make sure we have our facts straight, and that when we take 'werewolves' out of the equation, we all replace it with the same things," Stiles says, "but while I was waiting for my x-ray, my dad texted me the info on the three guys they arrested. Two of them are the ones who were in the car outside my house the other day."

"Okay," Erica says, sounding a little blank. "Great. So what?"

"Let me tell you a couple stories," Stiles says, "and you can decide which one you like best. In the first story, a group of guys hunting deer get confused. It's late, they're tired, they accidentally shoot some kids. That's the story the defense attorneys will tell. In the second story, a group of guys decide that it's more fun to hunt humans than deer, and shoot at some kids for sport. That's the story that we've got currently."

"And we like the second," Erica says.

"We like the second," Stiles says, "but we _love_ the third. Because the third story is the one in which a guy or couple of guys maliciously stalk some attractive teenaged girls, then attack them in the woods and try to kill them and their friends."

Erica and Derek are both silent for a few seconds. Stiles can see Derek's eyes in the rearview mirror, the surprise and admiration. Erica's mouth is slightly open. "Holy _shit_," she says.

"So this guy, he's staying with Allison's family. Her mom's cousin and a few friends of hers. Just in town for a visit. The guy comes off as a bit of a creeper. He makes her a little uncomfortable. She tries to stay away from him. So she sleeps at a friend's house for a couple nights. Then the next thing she knows, he's taking photos of her while he's sunbathing. Her friend – that's me in this little narrative – goes over to their car and politely asks them to get lost. They don't. Fast forward a couple of days, Allison and her friends are hanging out, as teenagers often do, and this guy and his pals track them down in the forest and start shooting. That's the story we're going to tell. And that is going to get these guys in way more trouble."

"You're vicious," Erica says, her eyes gleaming gold. "I _love_ it," she adds, and leans over to give him a kiss.

It's meant to be a quick, friendly kiss. That lasts about half of a second before hormones get involved and suddenly Erica's in his lap and he's pressed against the door of the Jeep. Stiles makes a muffled little noise against her mouth and all thoughts of logic and rationality are completely swept away by the fact that a girl is _in his lap_ and she smells _really good_. It's a messy, fumbling sort of kiss, open-mouthed and almost panicky in its intensity, and their hands are pretty much everywhere at once.

The car comes to a halt and Stiles feels _something_, some nebulous emotion that he can't even identify, from Derek. It's a streak of terror, bitter jealousy, murderous rage, and painful inadequacy. Stiles breaks away from Erica and both of them have to gasp for breath. "Uh," he says, before she can swoop in again. He sees her face flush.

"Wow, I got, uhm, I think I got a little carried away there," she says.

"Yeah, no, it's okay," he says. "It's a thing. Hormones. After you nearly die. There's a term for it. Short version: nearly getting killed can make people really freakin' horny."

"Oh," she says, and awkwardly crawls back into her seat. The car starts rolling again. Stiles wonders if there had been a stop sign or a red light or if Derek had just brought the car to a halt before he could crash into something.

They're only a few minutes away from the station, and he knows that he needs to be focused now. That's going to be hard enough with his hormones hammering away at every inch of his body, let alone Derek's sudden distress at this new development. Justin was right; they're going to have to have a conversation about this, and sooner rather than later, but now isn't the time for it.

He takes a few deep breaths as Derek pulls into a parking space. He's thinking about this the wrong way. It's not about being calm. Calm implies placidity, and that's not how he needs to be. He's going on the attack. It's an attack with words rather than claws, but an attack nonetheless. And that, that is something he can focus on right now.

Derek puts the Jeep in park with a motion that's almost violent, and then he's out of the car and heading into the station before anyone can say anything. Stiles curses and tries to catch up with him, but the crutches are a major hindrance. He doesn't dare broach the subject or even touch him right now, so he gives up trying to close the distance. Everyone is too volatile, himself included.

Sheriff Stilinski is on the phone when Stiles comes into his office. "Okay . . . yes, okay. Thank you, Your Honor. Sorry again to bother you so late. Uh huh. Good night." He hangs up the phone.

"What's up?" Stiles asks.

"Had to wake up Judge McPherson about bail hearings," Stilinski says, muffling a yawn. "How are the others? What's with the crutches?"

"Everyone's fine. They're keeping Allison overnight just to be on the safe side. Apparently I sprained my ankle at some point and didn't notice until I'd already walked on it enough to turn it into a really badly sprained ankle. Where do things stand here?"

"You haven't missed much yet," Stilinski says. "Those three are all loudly shouting about lawyers, so I haven't even bothered interrogating them yet to see what kind of bullshit story they concoct." He holds up a phone in an evidence bag. "Good call. Some very flattering shots of the girls in their swimsuits the other day."

Despite the humor in his voice, Stiles can hear the hard underlying note to it which means that his father is just as angry as he is. So he explains his plan, about making them sound like systematic stalkers rather than an isolated incident. He's afraid that his father won't approve of this bending of the truth, but from the look on his face, he's all for it. Which he supposes is fair. His father is fiercely protective when the occasion calls for it, and just because the wolves have healed doesn't mean that they weren't hurt.

"That's good," he says, when Stiles finishes his explanation. "Hell, that'll up this from assault to first-degree attempted murder, if we can swing it right . . ."

"I have faith," Stiles says solemnly, "but we'll need corroboration from Chris Argent about the guy's behavior in the house."

Sheriff Stilinski looks at the phone in its evidence bag and says, "You leave that to me."


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: The plot thickens . . ._

* * *

Chapter Eight

Stiles watches from behind the one-way mirror as his father shows Chris Argent into one of the interrogation rooms. This makes Chris uncomfortable for obvious reasons, but Sheriff Stilinski is quick to reassure him that this isn't an interrogation. "I just wanted to give us a little privacy," he says.

"What you want," Chris says, "is to let your son watch without me knowing he's there. Do you think I'm stupid?"

Stilinski smiles a mirthless little smile. "Okay," he says, "come on in, Stiles."

Stiles pushes the door open and hobbles in. He leans the crutches against the wall and sits down at the third side of the table, so it won't look like it's two against one. His father pulls out his wallet and forks over a twenty dollar bill. Stiles grins at him and pockets the money. "Told you he'd know."

His father shakes his head at him affectionately. "Well, Mr. Argent, it may shock you to know this, but Stiles here is not in charge of this operation. When he calls in law enforcement, he yields the reins to me. It's this little agreement we have. Something about me being the sheriff, and also his father. So yes, Stiles asked if he could observe, but he's not calling the shots."

"But you are of one mind on this subject," Chris says, his jaw tight.

"Yes, we are," Stilinski says. "So here's what we know, Mr. Argent. We know that a couple of kids were shot tonight with wounds that would have been fatal, or at least severely damaging, if they hadn't had their enhanced abilities. We know that there's no way we can prosecute the shooters for these wounds because they're already gone. So right now we're looking at assault with a deadly weapon, among some other various charges.

"We know that you don't like these people, and we know that you have a code of honor that wouldn't approve of shooting a seventeen-year-old girl and a sixteen-year-old boy for pretty much no reason. And we know that absolutely none of this is going to come up in any court case that these people have. So that's what we know. Here's what you didn't know." Sheriff Stilinski pulls out the evidence bag and puts on a pair of rubber gloves. "This is the smart phone of Mr. Joseph O'Malley, who is currently in holding." He taps the screen a few times. "Here is a picture Mr. O'Malley took two days ago."

Stiles gets to see the picture for the first time now, and it's a good one. Allison is sprawled out in the lawn chair in her swimsuit. It's a rather modest two-piece, especially compared to what he remembers Erica wearing, with a little skirt that's spread out over her upper thighs. Her head is turned to one side, mouth slightly open in her sleep, her eyes shielded by sunglasses and a few strands of hair over her face. Stiles is suddenly extremely glad that Scott is not in the room to see this.

When Chris just sits there, rigid and silent, Sheriff Stilinski slides to the next picture, which is also of Allison. Now she's lying on her stomach, and that little skirt has ridden up just a bit to show the back of her thighs and her rear end. Chris' face goes from pink to red. He looks like he's about to explode. Sheriff Stilinski continues to flip through the pictures, all of which are of the girls in their bathing suits.

"In case you would like some context," he says, "the day after the full moon, the pack stayed at my house. The boys were restless, so I had them doing yard work in the back. The girls elected to sunbathe out front. I did not think that this would be a problem. Clearly, I was incorrect. When Stiles got up for the day and realized that the hunters were there, he went over and politely asked them if they would leave, as the pack did not plan on going anywhere that day and did not need to be, shall we say, surveilled. They refused. And I think we can all agree that even if surveillance was necessary, these photographs do not qualify. In case you are wondering, no, I am not skipping pictures. There are virtually no pictures of the boys in here, except for one group shot as they entered the house in the morning."

Stilinski turns off the phone and puts it back in the evidence bag, then strips off his gloves. "I'm sure you can agree that this makes the situation much more serious," he says, "and you can imagine how this will look to any jury, that this man was taking provocative pictures of these girls shortly before trying to shoot them in the woods. In the absence of 'werewolves', well . . . you know what conclusions the jury will come to. And frankly, I'm not one hundred percent sure that they would be wrong. Of course, we will need your cooperation in corroborating some evidence if we wish to press additional charges, such as stalking and harassment . . .?"

He lets his voice trail off. It takes Chris a few moments to unclench his jaw long enough to speak. "Yes," he grinds out. "I would like to press every available charge, thank you."

Stiles has to bite back a grin. He hadn't really doubted what Chris' reaction to the pictures was going to be, but it's good to have it confirmed.

"Then to start with, I'm going to need you to give a statement," Stilinski says, still completely calm. "Detailing who these men were, how you knew them, the circumstances under which they arrived your house. It would be helpful if you could mention that your daughter has been staying with friends for several days because the house guests made her uncomfortable."

Chris nods. Of course, all of this is one hundred percent true.

"I'll leave it up to you how much you would like to elaborate," Stilinski says.

"There's going to be a problem," Chris says. "I can't explain why I let them continue to stay with me if they made my daughter uncomfortable, or why she or I didn't report his behavior to the authorities. Or," he adds, directing his attention here to Stiles, "why you didn't call the police when they were at your house the other day."

"You didn't throw them out or call the police because all you had to go on was that he gave Allison a 'creepy feeling'," Stiles says. "You figured it was easier to just let her stay with friends for a few days than try to raise a fuss. She was probably just overreacting. Teenaged girls do that sometimes." He shrugs and says, "You won't win any father-of-the-year awards for it, but it's an understandable reaction. As for me, I didn't call the authorities when they were outside my house because I didn't realize they were taking photos, and when I asked them to leave, they just told me it was a free country and there was nothing illegal about being parked on the side of the road. I don't like to do anything that might reflect poorly on my father, the sheriff, so I decided to let it go."

Chris gives a slow nod. "I'd like to call my wife," he says, "and then I'll be happy to give you a statement."

"That's fine," Stilinski says. "I – "

They hear shouting outside, a woman's voice, vicious and angry. It's Vivien. Chris' head jerks around and his eyes narrow. Before either Stiles or his father can do anything, he's on his feet and out of the room. Both Stilinskis grimace and hurry after him. Stiles is yet again left behind as he has to fumble for the damned crutches.

Vivien is standing at the front desk, shouting at poor Sandy, who's working the overnight shift. Something about 'unnecessary arrests' and 'police harassment'. Sheriff Stilinski is about to intervene when she catches sight of Chris and lays into him. "You useless bastard! What the fuck have you been doing down here if it isn't getting the others out of holding?"

"What the fuck have you been doing _shooting at my daughter_?" Chris shouts.

Vivien immediately becomes shifty-eyed. "No one was shooting at anyone. I – "

"Are you some kind of idiot?" Chris asks. "Did I not _warn_ you that this was going to happen? That my father isn't behind bars for the rest of his life because this kid asked nicely? It's because he built a case that would get a conviction! Why are your men still in holding? Because they got caught shooting at teenagers with rifles! No judge in this county is going to set bail for them."

Vivien folds her arms over her chest. "We have friends in high places – "

"Not in this county, you don't," Chris says. "Stiles has spent the last four months convincing all of them to go elsewhere."

Stiles looks at the ceiling innocently as Vivien focuses on him.

"Do you have even the slightest notion how screwed those guys are?" Chris asks, waving in the vague direction of the holding cells. "Did you know about the photographs?"

Vivien's face reddened. "What photographs?"

"Don't pull that bullshit on me," Chris growls. "You knew damned well they were taking 'surveillance' photographs."

"It's part of our job – "

"Photographing my _daughter_ in a swimsuit while she's _sleeping_ is not anybody's job!"

Sheriff Stilinski clears his throat. "Excuse me," he says. "Mr. Argent, you said you needed to go call your wife. Why don't you do that? I need to have a private conversation with Ms. . . .?"

Her face reddening, Vivien says, "There's going to be no conversation, private or otherwise," she snaps.

"Okay," Stilinski says. "Then you're under arrest."

She just stares at him. "What – you can't – "

"Yes, I absolutely can," he says, pulling out his handcuffs. "Because I have every reason to suspect you were also in the woods, pulling a trigger. I have witnesses who say gunshots were coming from five directions. You are a known associate of the men in custody, who arrived in town several days ago with your own firearms, and were staying in a house with one of the victims." He waves to a couple of his men as he gets the handcuffs on Vivien. "Please process this woman and check her hands for gunpowder residue," he says, and the officers nod, taking her by the elbows. She's still protesting loudly as they pull her down the hallway.

"Nothing will stick," Stilinski says, once she's gone, "unless she was actually stupid enough not to clean up before she came here. But damn if that wasn't satisfying."

Stiles gives his father a heartfelt grin. "You are the best dad ever," he says.

Stilinski reaches out and tousles Stiles' hair. "I'm just glad you guys are okay." To Chris, he says, "Please tell your wife not to actually set their belongings on fire. It's been a long enough night."

Chris huffs and stomps off. Stiles realizes for the first time that it's past two o'clock in the morning, and he's more than a little tired. He leans against his father, who still has several hours of work ahead of him. Erica's fallen asleep in one of the chairs in the lobby. Derek is standing on the front steps, where he's been the entire time, his unhappiness clear in the set of his jaw. Sheriff Stilinski follows Stiles' gaze and frowns a little. "He okay?"

"Uh, no," Stiles says. "I don't think he is."

"What happened?" his father asks.

Stiles rubs a hand over the back of his head and says, "I may have, uh, kinda, kissed Erica a little?"

There's a moment of silence. "Oh," Stilinski says.

"Or, uh, a lot."

"I see."

"Yep."

"You and Derek might want to have a conversation about that."

"You're not wrong." Stiles yawns. "But for now, I'd rather have a nap. I'll see you in the morning?"

His father nods. "You go get some sleep."

* * *

As much as Stiles desperately wants some sleep, he doesn't dare go back to the house with only Derek and Erica for company. As soon as one of them touched him, the other might snap. Literally. So they head back to the hospital. Lydia's mother has gone home. Allison has been moved to a room, but her mother is with her and none of them can withstand Victoria's laser gaze, so the group is camped out in one of the lobbies not far away. Isaac is slumped in an armchair with Lydia on his lap; her head is resting against his shoulder and they're both sound asleep. Scott is on a small sofa, his head nodding. Stiles immediately plops down next to him, spreading out so there's no room for anyone else and propping his foot up on the chair across from him. Now that business is dealt with, he finally allows himself to take one of the glorious painkillers.

Erica sits down on the floor by Isaac and leans against his legs, closing her eyes. Derek settles into a corner by himself, which is definitely a bad sign. Stiles knows that he should deal with it, but he's just too tired. He pulls out his phone and sees that he's missed three texts from Justin. Given how abruptly their phone call ended, he's not surprised. He texts back to let Justin know that he's okay; they got attacked by hunters but everyone got away. After some consideration, he asks, 'Did Kali go off by herself in the last 24 hours?'

'Yeah, she flounced off after the beta interviews,' Justin replies. 'Why?'

'Why do you think?' Stiles sends back. Justin doesn't respond. After a while, Stiles starts to feel foggy from the drugs. He slumps over and falls asleep.

Chris Argent turns up at seven thirty, and the doctors are discharging Allison. This nearly turns into an argument when Chris states that Allison is coming home. "I agreed she could stay with you while the hunters were at the house," he says. "They're no longer staying with us. Therefore, Allison is going to come with me."

"Okay," Stiles says, "if you're willing to have the entire pack stay under your roof."

Chris glares at him. "That's not necessary."

"You bet your ass it's necessary; there's still one hunter out there and God only knows what the alpha pack is going to think of this. We're all staying together. End of story."

"She's my daughter," Chris growls.

It seems like this might go on for some time, until Allison settles the issue by saying, "Oh my _God_, Dad, don't even make me climb out my window with stitches in my ass, because I will."

Grudgingly, Chris gives in. He delivers some graphic threats as to what he will do if Allison is not kept safe, and then stalks away. The others trudge out to parking lot. Scott's mother took a taxi home from work that morning so they would have a second car to use later. Lydia and Isaac, having slept several hours in the hospital, are proclaimed the most fit to drive. Isaac drives the Jeep, and Lydia drives Ms. McCall's car.

Even the people who got some sleep in the hospital are exhausted, and Allison's still pretty doped up, so they decide to crash and get another four hours or so of sleep. Stiles sets the alarm for noon and takes another one of his painkillers before falling into bed. They're all still sound asleep when the alarm goes off, and groan as they drag themselves out of bed. Scott freaks out when he realizes that he never called Dr. Deaton to let him know he wasn't going to be at work, and that wakes everybody up as he scrambles for his phone. Stiles listens to one side of the conversation as he pulls jeans and a T-shirt on. He tests his ankle gingerly and finds that it will support his weight, but not without sending red hot streaks of pain up his leg. "It's Scott, I'm so sorry I didn't – oh – really?" There's a pause. "Wow. Okay. Uh . . . okay. Uh huh." A pause. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Sorry."

"What's up?" Stiles asks, as Scott tucks his phone away.

"Apparently we're front page news," Scott says. "He read all about it in the paper this morning."

"People still read newspapers?" Lydia asks, yawning.

"I'm speaking figuratively," Scott says, "but yeah, we're news. We're _national_ news."

"Shit, really?" Stiles grabs his phone and pulls up CNN's website. Indeed, there's a 'breaking news' story about how three men with rifles started shooting at a group of teenagers in the woods, eventually cornering them in an abandoned house. Two people were taken to the hospital with minor wounds; both have been treated and released. The perpetrators are identified as Joseph O'Malley, 37, Luis Gutierrrez, 29, and Stanley Barlow, 32. The victims' names have not been released, but it is mentioned that one of them is the son of the local sheriff. A fourth person has been arrested 'in connection with the crime', but is not named.

It's a bare-bones story, very much the kind that a website slaps up before a lot of details have been released. There's nothing about the stalking or the photographs, and no quotes from any officials. The comments section is filled with the typical head-shaking about what the world is coming to, and a lively, if ugly, debate about gun control.

"Damn, we're famous," Stiles says, grinning.

"Only you could be happy about this," Isaac says, shaking his head.

Once he stops and thinks about it, though, Stiles isn't sure this is a good thing. A lot of publicity means a lot of scrutiny. He'll need to be sure his case is airtight. "Okay, friends and neighbors," he says, "let's have a talk about _exactly_ what has happened over the past few days. And then we'll go down to the station and give our statements."

He goes over it in excruciating detail – Allison's initial impressions of the visitors, what she told Scott about them, what she told her father about them, the way her father half-brushed her off but then said 'I guess you can stay with friends for a few days if he's really bothering you'. Scott's opinion, as Allison's boyfriend. The sunbathing incident, the photographs. The shooting. He gives them all individual things to have noticed or thought of, so their statements wouldn't seem like they had come up with them together. He even gives a couple of them incorrect assumptions or facts – things he knows won't damage them in court, but will lend a ring of truth to their story.

One thing that worries him is Derek's presence. The rest of them are all sixteen and seventeen. Derek is several years older. For him to have been hanging out with them will look strange, but the fact that he was there when the police arrived and that they wound up in his old house means they can't pretend he wasn't. After several minutes wracking his brain, he can't think of anything. Derek will just have to be a guy who likes hanging out with teenagers, and they'll hope nobody finds it creepy.

He stops by the local coffee shop to get a bunch of cappuccinos, lattes, and other froofy drinks to bring to the station. Bribery is always a great bet with his father's officers, and indeed they are met with enthusiasm. Plus as a bonus, he gets coffee for himself, so he's moderately wired when he gets to the station. They're all separated to give their statements.

After that, the others are slumped around the lobby, and he goes to find his father. Sheriff Stilinski is sleep-deprived and somewhat grumpy. "Vivien still here?" Stiles asks, sipping his third cup of coffee.

Stilinski shakes his head. "No, we decided in the end we couldn't bring charges against her. We just don't have enough proof she was involved. Ballistics has been collecting bullets in the woods all morning, and the guns have been confiscated from the Argent house. But I bet she hid that one or threw it away, and even if it belongs to her, we can't prove she was the one firing it. We'll have to settle for the three we've got." He pushes one hand through his hair and says, "It's a madhouse here. There've been reporters calling all damned morning."

"You want me to deal with them?" Stiles asks brightly.

Stilinski gives him a narrow-eyed look. "Son, there are few things I want _less_ than to put you on the phone with reporters."

"Fair," Stiles says. "Hey, so, I need your help solving a five-year-old murder."

His father gives him a pointed look. Stiles just returns it with an innocent smile. "I suppose pointing out that I don't have time for this won't get me anywhere," he finally says.

"Right," Stiles says, and launches into it. "So, the reason we were in the woods last night, unarmed and helpless, was because Kali had texted me and told me to be there. For a trial, or so I assumed. Okay. Maybe the hunters just jumped at their chance. But Derek is sure that all five of them were there last night."

"The ballistics so far would suggest that he's correct," Stilinski says.

"Okay. So, this whole time, the hunters have been split into two groups – one group following us, the other group shadowing the alpha pack. So why were all five of them in the woods last night . . .?"

"Because Kali told them you were going to be there," Stilinski says, nodding slowly. "Kali set you up. She's working with the hunters."

"Which is anathema to pretty much any werewolf," Stiles says. "Just the fact that we set up a truce with the local hunters seemed to piss off the alpha pack, along with that pack that tried to take our territory back in March. So if I can prove this, Kali is going to be in deep. She goes off by herself sometimes, too, which I've noticed none of the other alphas do."

"What does any of this have to do with a murder that took place five years ago?" Stilinski asks.

Stiles digs through his drawers and pulls out the dossier he had been looking at earlier on Trevor St. John. "This is the previous alpha pack leader," he says. "He was killed five years ago. He took two to the chest. I figured that it was fatal because the bullets were laced with wolfsbane."

"Okay. So?"

"So, they weren't," Stiles says. "Back when Derek was shot, he mentioned that the form of wolfsbane used, Nordic Blue Monkshood, was actually really rare. Wolfsbane seems to be more of an Argent family thing than a hunter thing. The bullets used last night were standard steel. Otherwise we would have been in way more trouble. But in that case, Trevor shouldn't have died from these wounds."

Stilinski is frowning. "Okay. So what are you thinking?"

"I'm not sure yet," Stiles says. "Vivien bragged that Trevor 'went down easy' and that they killed another wolf at the same time. I've done a little research into that. Another body was found not far from Trevor's, a guy named Haji. He took two bullets, and then they cut him in half."

"Which is a standard hunter thing to do," Stilinski says.

"Right. So why didn't they do that to Trevor?" Stiles shrugs. "My guess is because he was already dead, but that doesn't make any sense. Even most betas could shrug off two to the chest, as long as they didn't puncture both lungs or hit the heart or anything. Derek was hurt worse than that when Peter got him that night at the high school, and he recovered just fine."

"You think Kali did something?" Stilinski asks cautiously. "Son, that's one hell of an accusation without a lot of proof."

"I know," Stiles says, "but she had motive. She was the next in line for the pack leader position, and she was pissed at Trevor because he was in charge of her. When Kali was trying to coerce Laura into the pack, Trevor's the one who told her to knock it off. Kali . . . the thing is, she may honestly be a psychopath. When she wants something, she gets it. She doesn't back off, she doesn't give up. The only reason she eventually left Laura alone has to have been because Trevor told her that the alpha pack was leaving, either with or without her. And then they got into an argument over Justin. Kali didn't want him in the alpha pack but Trevor took him in anyway. And Justin was a threat to her. Right now he's probably the biggest threat."

"So why hasn't she had the hunters kill him?" Stilinski asks.

"She might just not have had the opportunity," Stiles says. "It can't happen every day. It took almost four years for her to have a chance at Trevor, if she decided to kill him right after the thing with Laura."

"You better tell Justin to watch his back," Stilinski says.

"Already done," Stiles says, thinking back to the exchange of text messages early that morning. "If not in so many words. But if I can prove this, I can turn the alpha pack against Kali."

"Okay. So what do you need from me?"

"I need all the material regarding Trevor's murder," Stiles says. "Haji's too. They're both unsolved. I mean, I know who killed them, but we can't prove that it was Vivien. But there's something else going on there, and I want to tease it out. And I need as much information on Kali as I can get."

"I'll see what I can do," Stilinski says. "Did you talk to Derek yet?"

"Uh, no," Stiles says.

"Mm hm," his father replies.

"I've been a little preoccupied," Stiles points out.

"Mm hm," his father says again.

Stiles huffs out a sigh. "I'm just going to go keep myself busy until you've gotten that information for me, okay? Maybe go talk to a reporter or two."

Stilinski closes his folder. "You'll probably have to eventually, if we're going to be honest. What with all the mass shootings lately, this is not small news. Talk to your pack about it."

"I will."

* * *

None of them want to split up, which is problematic because almost all of them have parents who want to hover. Isaac is the lone exception; even Lydia's mother is concerned. After some debate, Melissa McCall offers to have everyone over and invite the parents as well. She even calls up Chris and Victoria and tells them that they're welcome to come. Nobody expects them to show up, but they do. Chris brings a bottle of wine. Victoria stiffly ignores everyone present, but gives Allison a hug that lasts almost two minutes.

Mrs. Martin is not in the know about werewolves, and to be honest nobody wants to talk about what happened anyway, so Stiles declares certain subjects taboo, and everyone agrees. They grill some steaks and eat on the back porch in the nice weather. The names of the 'victims' have been released to the press, and the phone is ringing off the hook. Melissa unplugs it after the first three times she tells a reporter that her son is not planning to speak to anyone at this time.

They enjoy the fading sunlight and talk about lacrosse, about colleges, about summer plans. The Argents are still planning their trip to France. Lydia wants to go to Los Angeles and San Francisco to look around some college campuses. Scott's mom is planning their annual three-day weekend trip to his grandparents' in exciting Barstow. Derek sits in rigid silence the entire time, but this is not particularly surprising, given their current company. He and Chris Argent just try not to look at each other.

Sheriff Stilinski comes in just after dinner, obviously exhausted. He gets a plate of food and updates them between quick bites. All of the three men have lawyered up, and they're getting all the charges sorted out. O'Malley is getting the worst of it, which suits Stiles just fine. Luis might have been an asshole to him, but at least he didn't treat him like a harmless kid and then try to literally shoot him in the back. There's assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder, stalking, harassment, plus a few weapons charges. Most of these have at least seven counts attached to them.

"If we're lucky," he says, slathering butter onto his baked potato and ignoring Stiles' patented 'cholesterol frown', "they'll enter a plea. Bargain down from attempted murder by pleading guilty to the assault and weapons charges. That's the best case scenario. They'll still get at least twenty years for everything put together, and we won't have to worry about a trial."

Chris scowls. He obviously thinks that there isn't enough jail time in the world for whoever it was who shot his little girl. "Will it be problematic that we don't know who fired the shots that actually caused injury?" he asks.

"I don't think so," Stilinski says. "It might be if somebody had actually died and we had to prove who fired the killing shot, but thankfully, nobody did."

There's a brief moment where every parent in the room takes a moment to hug their respective child. Sheriff Stilinski hooks an arm around Isaac's shoulders, too, pulling him into an embrace. Derek sits there and looks horribly awkward and depressed. Then Stilinski's phone rings. He sighs and reaches for it. "I can't get away from them," he says.

"Set up a press conference," Stiles says. "Tomorrow at . . . let's say noon. Easy to remember. Those of us who are going to talk to the reporters can do it together."

Stilinski looks surprised for a few moments, but then nods and picks up the phone. He tucks it against his ear and wanders away from the table so he can discuss the details.

"So . . . who . . .?" Scott asks.

Stiles looks around at his pack. Isaac is too shy; he's horrible at public speaking. Erica would be fine except that if someone antagonizes her, her language turns vulgar extremely quickly. "Lydia, you are our public face," he says, "since you made the 911 call. You can do that?" he asks, and she nods. "Scott, you too," Stiles continues, "because you were the brave medic."

Scott makes a face.

"Look at it this way," Stiles says. "Fuck your chemistry grade; every med school in the country will let you in after this."

There's a general laugh at this, and Scott agrees. "I have to work – "

"Like Dr. Deaton will not be understanding of the fact that you need to take some time off after this," Stiles says, rolling his eyes. "I'll give a statement. I sort of have to, being in that I was injured and am the sheriff's son, but I'd rather keep the spotlight on you two and Allison."

Victoria scowls. "Allison, I really don't want you talking to any reporters."

"I won't make you," Stiles says, "if you really don't want to."

Allison shifts, a little uncomfortable. "How about I just . . . don't talk much? Kind of like you?"

"Okay," Stiles says agreeably. Victoria's frown fades very slightly. "I know that you're going to be the focus of this because of the pictures, but you don't have to say anything to reporters. Just makes sure to say how grateful you are to the police and to Scott and Lydia for helping you," he adds, and she nods, leaning into Scott's shoulder for a minute.

The conversation gradually peters out. Stiles wants to get back to looking through the information he's scrounged up on Trevor and Kali, but it's impossible to get away from the parents. They continue to sit together even after the silence is growing awkward. "Well," Mrs. Martin finally says, "we should be getting home . . ."

"I figured the kids would just sleep here tonight," Melissa says brightly. "I don't mind. I think it would make them feel better. And Tom's going to sleep on the sofa so he'll be here too."

"Well . . ."

Erica leans over and whispers, "Who's Tom?"

Stiles gives her a funny look. "My father."

"Oh!" Erica lets out a little snicker. "You know, I've always just called him Papa Stilinski; I don't think it ever occurred to me that he _had_ a first name . . ."

There's hemming and hawing from almost all quarters, but eventually, parental worries are soothed by the fact that the sheriff and a trained ER nurse will both be on hand. Chris and Victoria are the last to leave. Victoria thanks Melissa for having them, a little less standoffishly than she had been at the beginning of the night. Chris gets Allison's crossbow from the car, now that Mrs. Martin and Erica's parents have departed. She takes it like it's a life raft and gives him a long hug.

Once they're gone, the pack adjourns to Scott's room, where Stiles continues to go through the data he's collected. He's found some fascinating things. "Derek," he says, tapping his finger against his laptop, "you said that becoming a werewolf doesn't always cure congenital conditions, right?"

"Right," Derek says, glancing up. "Technically, Scott is still asthmatic and Erica is still epileptic. It's just that their body will correct the problem. Why?"

"Because I'm finding all these medical records for Trevor," Stiles says, "back from when he was a kid and a young teenager. But they stop pretty abruptly around the age of thirteen, which is presumably when he was turned."

"What kind of records?" Scott asks, hanging upside down off his bed. He frowns and adds, "And how are you getting them? That stuff isn't usually available."

"Apparently, whoever investigated Trevor's murder dug it all up and it's been included in his police file," Stiles says. "But what's frustrating is that they didn't really do a detailed autopsy. He'd taken two bullets to the chest. Cause of death was pretty obvious. They did a tox screen but everything was negative."

"Then why did they dig up his medical files?" Lydia asks.

"Apparently, they received an anonymous tip that it might be relevant," Stiles says, and throws his hands up in the air. "Whoever the hell . . ."

"Maybe one of the other alphas suspected something wrong." Allison is lying on her stomach next to Scott, her chin propped in her hands. "There was one more alpha killed between Trevor's death and now, right?"

"Right," Stiles says. "Vivien says they've gotten three in the past five to ten years. So that could be it. Someone knew Kali set Trevor up and was looking into it. So maybe Kali got that alpha killed as well."

"The funny thing is that she doesn't really seem so calculating," Lydia says, frowning. "I mean . . . to be honest, she comes off more as a spoiled brat who throws tantrums when she doesn't get her way. Are we really giving her credit for putting all this together?"

"Maybe it's an act," Isaac suggests.

"Or maybe Vivien's calling the shots," Scott adds.

Stiles lets out a snort and says, "Frankly, Vivien doesn't seem a lot smarter. I don't know. You have a point, Lydia. But at the same time, pretty much every time we see Kali, she's been taken off guard or pissed off or both. She's certainly been clever enough about the tasks. She's been able to get inside my head and know what would piss me off, like going after Derek, or forcing me to sit by and say nothing while they grill you. She knew _exactly_ what to say to Derek to make him lose control. We don't really _know_ Kali."

"Maybe we should talk to her family," Allison says. "I mean, you said she's from a long-standing werewolf family. They might know things we don't. They might be willing to tell us."

"Yeah, maybe," Stiles agrees. "Anyway, so, Trevor had a heart condition. I don't know three quarters of these words, but it looks like he was subject to arrhythmias. I think I'd have to spend an hour on Wikipedia before I would really understand it. Looks like he was hospitalized several times as a child, but none after the turn."

"So what in the Christ does it have to do with him being killed by bullets?" Erica asks.

"Actually," Derek speaks up suddenly, "it might have everything to do with it. That's an extremely stressful situation. It could cause an attack – just like it might cause an asthma attack in Scott. The body wouldn't know which to heal first."

"Yeah, but I've been shot," Scott says. "I didn't die from it."

"You got immediate medical attention both times," Derek says. "Trevor didn't. And a cardiac arrhythmia is a lot more dangerous than an asthma attack."

"This is all really interesting," Lydia says, "but none of it proves that Kali had anything to do with his death. It only proves that the hunters were lucky that he went down easily, because of a pre-existing medical condition that they may or may not have known anything about."

"No . . . but this might," Stiles says, flipping through another page. "Medical records indicate that Trevor had a rescue medication for his condition. And the pharmacy records show that he had filled it regularly, and recently prior to his death. Scott, you still carry your inhaler, right?" he asks.

Scott nods. "Just in case."

"And Trevor carried his meds, just in case," Stiles says. "But none were found on his body. And that? That might actually prove something." He rubs his hands over his face and looks at the clock. It's almost ten, and he's been buried in data all day. "I'm wiped. I think I'm going to get some sleep. You guys can stay up if you want. It won't bother me."

He drags out one of the egg crates and a blanket, takes a quick shower, and sets up a nest in the corner of Scott's room. Allison and Lydia have opted to go to bed as well, and both of them are already asleep. Scott's lying in bed with Allison, playing on his phone. Isaac is flopped down with a book and Erica has borrowed Stiles' laptop to surf the internet. Derek is in wolf form, and when Stiles comes back from the shower he's curled up on the very edge of the egg crate. He looks up as Stiles approaches, ears back and down, brow furrowed in a worried expression, his entire body pressed low to the floor. Stiles half-collapses onto the egg crate and pats the space next to him. Derek slinks up to join him, and Stiles presses his face into the wolf's fur with a slight sigh of relief. For now, they don't have to talk about it. They'll work it out somehow. It's a comforting thought as he drifts off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_This first scene is one of the first ones I wrote in this fic. I really looked forward to it. ^_^_

_In other news, whenever I see that Derek and Laura were 'at school' during the fire, I've always assumed that meant boarding school, because I assumed the fire was at night. (Why else would everyone have been there, otherwise?) I'm not sure if this is accurate or not, but I went with it._

* * *

Chapter Nine

Melissa comes into their room at about eight AM, long enough to wake Scott and tell him that she's going to work. Sheriff Stilinski has already departed, and would like them down at the station at eleven AM so they can discuss things before the press conference. Scott says okay and sleepily returns his mother's "I love you".

Stiles is already awake at this point, and since Scott rolls over and goes right back to sleep, he figures he might as well get up to make sure they don't oversleep. He gets out of bed and goes downstairs. The house is quiet. He starts the coffee maker, listening to the reassuring burbling, takes his Adderall, and starts making breakfast.

Gradually, the wolves come downstairs. Scott carries Allison down, and she grumbles about having to use crutches to get around. Stiles is glad that his ankle has healed enough that he can walk around without help now. He starts dishing up plates of corn muffins and sausage. They talk about the press conference a little, but everyone's pretty quiet. Derek just drinks coffee and doesn't say anything.

Erica is the last to come down, and she greets Stiles in what is, from her, a normal manner. That is to say, she plunks into his lap and says, "hey, stud" in a teasing tone, before kissing him on the cheek. Erica's flirtatious by nature now that she's gotten a handle on how attractive she is, and she does this all the time. It's not serious, and it never has been, and nobody has ever thought it was. Which is why it's so surprising when Derek suddenly snarls at her.

"Whoa!" Erica yelps, and then blinks at him. Something like understanding crosses her face. "Whoa, really? Damn. Sorry." She edges out of Stiles' lap and into her own chair.

Stiles rubs both of his hands over his face. "We don't mean anything by it, you know . . ."

Derek stares at both of them for a minute, taking in the stunned faces around the table, and then abruptly shoves his chair back from the table and stalks out of the room. He's a wolf by the time he's in the backyard, jumps the fence, and disappears into the forest. Stiles is already right behind him, ignoring the fact that he's barefoot. Behind him, he hears Erica say in a confused, almost plaintive tone of voice, "We were just playing. Really. I mean, if Stiles had _wanted_ to, but he didn't, so we were just playing," and isn't _that_ an interesting tidbit to file away, that Erica actually _would have had sex with him_, which he tries very hard not to think about as he follows Derek into the forest.

He gives Derek plenty of room, though. Hunters and alphas all be damned; Derek needs time to work through this in his own head. So he just catches up gradually, closing the distance a little bit at a time, until they're walking together. And even then he doesn't say anything.

Eventually, Derek stops walking and just sits with his head pressed against Stiles' hip. After a few minutes like that, Stiles sits down, leaning against a tree, and Derek lays across his lap, ears down, tail drooping. "Look," Stiles finally says, "if we upset you the other night, I'm sorry, but you have to _tell_ me when I'm doing stuff that pisses you off. I wasn't born to this like you were. If there are rules I don't know about, clue me in _before_ you get snarly."

Derek looks up at him and then shifts back, keeping his knees pulled up to his chest, because despite his lack of modesty, the last thing this conversation needs is nudity. "You didn't break any rules," he finally says. "I shouldn't have done that to her."

Stiles huffs out a sigh. "Look, I'm not going to say that what happened the other night was all the post-battle adrenaline rush, because that would be a lie and you'd know it. Yes, Erica is hot. Yes, I would have sex with her in a hot minute. You know that, because you can smell the pheromones. Apparently she would have sex with me, too, which is totally news to me. But that's not the point, because, I guess, the point is that if it would bother you that I would have sex with her, I won't."

Derek won't look at him now. "You have a right to pick someone besides me, you know. She's a good wolf. She stands her ground."

"W-What?" Stiles asks, momentarily stymied. "I mean, what? Are you stupid? There will be no picking of anyone besides you. Don't you fucking know that by now?"

"Stiles, you aren't gay," Derek says. "Sex is a reasonable thing to want out of a relationship."

"Well, yeah, but not the relationship I have with _you_," Stiles says. "That's a completely different sort of relationship. I mean, isn't it possible for us to co-captain the pack together but for me to, you know, eventually I guess, have sex with somebody? Who isn't you?"

"Yes, but – no!" Derek blurts out. "Because people aren't wired like that, if you have sex with Erica it'll be 'Stiles and Erica', and you'll still be alpha and I can do the 'wolf' parts but it won't, it won't be the same. So at that point it might as well just be 'Stiles and Erica run the pack' because that's how it'll end up anyway and I'll – I'll just be – " He breaks off the words, bitter frustration clogging his throat, and abruptly shifts back to his wolf form.

"Oh, for crying out – " Stiles makes a strangled little noise in the back of his throat. "Okay. That's it. I am done beating around the bush. I am dragging the elephant out of the corner of the room it's hiding in. Lupa. The word you are looking for, that you won't use because you don't want to freak me out, or maybe you won't use it because _you're_ not ready for it yet, is lupa. You are my lupa. We run the pack together. It, it's an exclusive, committed relationship, despite the fact that it's not what the majority of the world would think of as normal. And the fact that I don't want to have sex with you has _nothing_ to do with that. Because I talked to Justin, okay, and you can be mad at me all you want but Justin said that lupas aren't always a romantic couple, so it's totally possible for you to be my lupa even though sex just isn't a thing we're ever going to do."

Derek shifts a little, rolling his eyes up to meet Stiles' gaze for a second before giving a small nod against his leg.

"Then stop saying dumb stuff about me picking Erica over you," Stiles says firmly, "because that is not going to happen."

Derek shifts until he's not only halfway in Stiles' lap but is also pressed against his belly. Stiles can't force him to talk when he's in wolf form, but it's a lot harder to hide his emotions this way, so it's a fair trade. He rolls a little so he's laying partly on his side, tilting his head back to look at Stiles, showing his throat. Sometimes being in fur has its advantages. He can roll over for Stiles without it feeling humiliating, and then they can move on.

"I'm not saying I won't want sex once in a while," Stiles says, his fingers smoothing over the fur of Derek's throat. Accepting the offer of vulnerability as the sign of trust that it is. "And I'm not saying that it won't be with Erica. But it has to be okay with you first. I promise that I'm totally capable of having sex with someone else without somehow making them my lupa, and I wouldn't do anything with a girl who didn't understand that I'm not looking for a serious relationship. I'm not _going_ anywhere, Derek. It's not going to be 'Stiles and Erica'. It's always going to be you and me. Get it through your thick head."

Derek's eyes close, and he relaxes into Stiles' touch, flicking an ear in acknowledgement of his words. He can live with that, because lupa never changes. Ultimately, Stiles belongs to him and he belongs to Stiles, even separate from the pack. As long as he has that assurance, everything else is okay.

Stiles thinks about mentioning the fact that Derek is entitled to want sex, too, but decides to leave that trauma for a separate day. He's put Derek through enough for now, and to be fair, if Derek is really content being a nonsexual creature, it's not really his place to interfere. So he just lets them sit and enjoy the quiet for a long moment before he gives Derek's ear a tweak and says, "Good boy."

The ear twitches out of Stiles fingers, and one eye pops open. There's a moment of consideration before Derek rolls and pops up, plants a front paw in the middle of Stiles' chest and gives him a big sloppy kiss all the way up the side of his face before bounding backwards, wearing a wolf smirk.

"No tongue, you bastard!" Stiles shouts after him, and Derek's tongue just lolls mockingly. A game of wolf tag ensues for about three minutes before Stiles stumbles and makes a little noise.

Derek has almost immediately shifted back, catching him before he can fall. His usual glower returns to his face. "Where are your crutches?"

"Seriously?" Stiles asks. "You think I stopped to grab my crutches? I'm not even wearing _shoes_. Anyway, it didn't even hurt until four seconds ago, I think I just twisted it again."

The glower intensifies.

Stiles looks at him and gives a little sigh. "Just please not a princess carry," he says.

Derek carries him piggy back all the way back to the Stilinski house, and Stiles just prays that nobody sees them since, of course, Derek is naked. Worse things have happened to him in his life – hell, worse things have happened to him this week – but still, he's not looking forward to the gossip. Derek sets him down in a chair on the back porch while he gets dressed, and they go back inside.

All the pack stop and blink up at them, and Stiles is keenly aware that everything about them has probably changed. Subtle differences in scent and posture that he would never notice himself, a change that indicates that everything is okay. That the elephant in the room has been discussed and an agreement of mutual satisfaction has been reached. That they belong to each other in a way no human could ever understand, and the acknowledgment of it has cemented that bond.

Derek rubs a hand over Erica's head in comforting apology before dishing up a plate of food. He puts Stiles down in a chair and puts the plate down in front of him, and Stiles digs in. "So, busy day today," he says, his mouth full of eggs.

"Mm," Derek agrees, getting a plate of his own. He hesitates. "I have some things you should look through."

Stiles blinks at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Derek's quiet for a minute. "Some of Laura's things. She kept a journal. She . . . may have written about Kali. I don't know. I've never read it." He hunches inwards for a few moments. "I've never even opened it."

Stiles feels like he's been kicked in the gut. Even after the conversation they just had, that feels like too much trust. "Are . . . are you sure?" he asks, and Derek nods. Stiles lets out a breath. "Okay," he says. "We can go by your apartment after the press conference to grab it."

* * *

The press conference goes about as well as could be expected. Sheriff Stilinski fields most of the logistical questions, along with the district attorney, who has driven down to attend. By and large, the reporters are respectful of the teenagers and keep their questions reasonable. Lydia gets most of the attention because she's gorgeous and the 911 tape has been released at this point. She's bright and vivacious and accepts all the praise with blushing denials. Scott gets a fair amount of praise, too, since Stilinski mentions that most of the on-site medical care was provided by him.

By now, more information has been released, so Stiles talks a little about how he had asked the men to leave a few days previous. Allison gets a lot of questions, but Scott jumps in to answer them when she looks uncomfortable. Their parents are all there as well. Finally, at the end, one of the reporters asks, "If you could say something to the shooters, what would you say?"

Stiles looks right at the cameras – looks at Vivien _through_ the cameras – grins a shit-eating grin and says, "I'm glad you guys have crappy aim."

This gets a general laugh from the assembly, and a few hysterical giggles from the pack. Of course, their aim wasn't anywhere near as bad as it seems, but it wasn't exactly stellar, either. Stiles is pretty sure that both Allison and Chris Argent would have done more damage than any of Vivien's guys.

After the conference, they have to split up again. Scott has to work, which nobody is particularly happy about, although they can certainly count on Dr. Deaton to deal with pretty much anyone who walks through the door. After some discussion, Isaac decides to go with him to work and just hang out at the clinic. It's not his ideal summer day, but nobody feels comfortable otherwise. Scott says Dr. Deaton can probably give him some stuff to do. If not, he can just play on the computer in the back.

The girls split off to make the rounds of their various houses, check in with their parents, and soothe frayed nerves. Everyone is to remain close to their phone at all times, in case something happens, but they agree that in the absence of anything exciting, they'll meet back at the Stilinski house after dinner.

Stiles and Derek head back to his apartment, and then Derek goes into his closet and withdraws a worn box. He carries it out to the car without a word, and then they go to the studio. Derek immerses himself in a painting he's been working on, and Stiles sits quietly with the box of Laura's things. He's determined to read only what's absolutely necessary.

Laura has kept a journal off and on her entire life, and she kept all of them. It takes a little flipping to find the one that she had kept after being sent to boarding school, which is purple with lilacs on the front. "All the Hale kids go to boarding school," Derek told Stiles once. "Because otherwise we would never leave home. We're . . . we _were_ . . . so insular as it is. The adults used it as an opportunity to show the kids what the rest of the world was like."

Even so, werewolves couldn't go just anywhere, so they went to what Stiles has begun mentally calling 'Xavier's School for Supernatural Youngsters', a conglomerate school of children from all different walks of life. There were vampires there, and changelings, as all as witches and warlocks. Derek had been at school when the Hale house burned down, and Laura had been in college at that point.

The first several pages of Laura's journal during this period of her life are the fairly typical ramblings of a homesick teenaged girl. She briefly mentions her roommate, Kali, who 'seems nice enough' but doesn't go into detail. There's details about her classes, the dreamy math teacher she has a crush on, the arrangements the school makes for the full moon, the food. It's just her life. Stiles skims as much as possible, looking for Kali's name.

She comes up on and off. They're both in their first year at school, both a little homesick. Laura mentions that Kali doesn't seem very friendly to the non-weres, but it's more in passing than anything else and doesn't seem to bother her. They have a couple classes together and, being in that they're roommates, hang out socially.

But as Laura starts to make more friends and come out of her shell, she writes more than once that Kali is a little clingy. She starts to seem uncomfortable with how much Kali wants her around, how she gets annoyed if Laura goes out without her or stays out late, how Kali seems deliberately antagonistic to Laura's friends, as if she's trying to get them to go away.

One of the last entries of the school year reads thusly:

'Kali really wants to room together next year. I told her I was thinking about rooming with Clara and she had a hissy fit! She said that I'm not really her friend and I don't care about her. It was really upsetting. She stormed out for a while but when she came back, said she was really sorry. She's really stressed over finals and stuff right now. She actually started crying about it. She said she doesn't know who she'll room with next year if I won't room with her 'cause everyone hates her. I felt so bad for her. So I guess I'll room with her another year. Maybe I can help her make some friends.'

Stiles, who knows where this is going, can't help but shake his head in rueful regret over Laura's naïveté. But hindsight, he knows, is twenty-twenty.

Things take a darker turn the next year almost immediately. Kali's back up to her old tricks, jealousy and possessiveness shining through in almost everything she does. She demands Laura call if she's going to go out anywhere besides class, and gradually starts driving away all of Laura's friends with her strange behavior. The shit really hits the fan when Laura gets asked out on a date for the first time.

'October 3rd: So, I did something really stupid today,' the journal reads. 'Gideon asked me if I wanted to go out a movie this weekend and I said yes. Like as a date. My first date! I was over the moon until I got back and saw Kali. I guess Ruby saw Gideon ask me and she told Kali. Kali thinks I shouldn't go. She says Gideon's no good. I tried to explain to her that he's really nice and seems to really like me, but she just got more upset. She says that nobody cares about me as much as she does.'

'October 6th. Just got home from my date. It went really well. I'd write more about it but I can't. I'm too scared, my hands are shaking. Kali's not here and someone spray-painted 'whore' on the wall above my bed in red paint.'

'October 12th. Gideon's been avoiding me. I tried to catch him after science today but he says that he can't see me anymore. He won't tell me why.'

'October 14th. Ruby says that Kali told Gideon that if he went out with me again, she'd kill him. I have to talk to her but I don't know what to say. We haven't said anything at all since she helped me clean the wall. She said she was sorry, that she just freaked out, but I don't know . . .'

'October 17th. Shit hit the fan today in a _big_ way. I finally managed to corner Kali about what she said to Gideon. She broke down completely and started sobbing. She says no one loves me like she does and if I date other people, she'll kill herself.'

'October 18th. I made Kali go down to the counselor's office today. She denied everything that happened and tried to make _me_ look like the crazy one! She says I'm so upset that Gideon won't date me that now I'm making stuff up to get attention. I don't know what to do. I'm so glad the full moon is this weekend and I can get away from her for a little while.'

'November 1st. While I was home, my mom called Kali's mom and talked to her. I guess they've been worried about her for a while. They're putting her in counseling. Kali's so mad at me that she won't even talk to me. I wish I could say I was unhappy about that, but I'm not. I hope she gets better, though. I'm really worried about her.'

The journal then turns to other things. Kali does seem to get better, at least in that there are no more mentions of her strange behavior until well into the spring. That's when Kali comes out as a lesbian. Laura writes a great deal about how brave she thinks Kali is, and how much she admires the other young woman for putting who she is out there for the whole world to see. If she's bothered by what it might imply about Kali's feelings for her, she never mentions it. She goes to a spring dance with a young man named Omar, and Kali goes with a witch who's in the year ahead of them in school. Kali doesn't seem to have a problem with Laura having a boyfriend. There's only one other mention of Kali after the dance, in the June fourth entry.

'Gonna room with Kali again next year. Taking Spanish and computer science as electives. Omar is going to come visit for a week this summer – Mom's already said it's okay. So excited!'

The summer is filled with stories of camping, of running with the pack, of how much she misses her boyfriend, of how her obnoxious little brother Derek is turning twelve and already acting like a teenager. Stiles tries to picture Derek as a snotty preteen. It does not click even remotely.

The next year starts off with a bang.

'September 2nd: what the fuck was I thinking, agreeing to room with Kali again? I must be some kind of stupid! I thought she was getting better last year, but she flipped out before I was even done _unpacking_ because Omar came over to say hi. She says he can't be in our room, there are rules, which is such bullshit! Anyway, it's not fair that she can have her girlfriend come out just because she's a lesbian and I can't have my boyfriend over. She's going on and on about how she and her girlfriend were sexing it up all summer. She's wearing all this makeup now and she's dressed like a total slut. I get that coming out was hard for her, and she can have sex with whoever she wants, but I don't need to hear about it!

'I think she just doesn't want me to have a boyfriend and she's just trying to scare Omar off. Luckily I warned him that she might pull something like this. He's got an older sister who has bipolar disorder so he says he doesn't scare off so easy. Actually he handled Kali better than I did, but I'm just so frustrated with her!

'So now I'm not talking to her and we're just sitting on opposite sides of the room, not talking to each other. Ugh, this is so stupid. I wonder if it's too late to request a room change.'

Apparently it is, because no mention is made of it again. Omar remains quite the gentleman, putting up with all of Kali's strange behavior. She goes through a string of girlfriends. Laura writes at one point that she's worried that she might be taking drugs, and they get into several arguments about drinking and how Laura doesn't want liquor, or people who have been consuming liquor, in their room.

Laura doesn't seem to see it, but Stiles does, either because he knows the way things ended up or because he simply knows more about human psychology than seventeen-year-old Laura did. But he can see the way Kali manipulates her. The way she does bizarre things to make Laura worry, antagonizes her and then breaks down in tearful apologies, tells her that she's the only one who cares about her. It's almost textbook in its classic abusive codependency.

During the winter months, Laura and Omar break up. Kali has nothing to do with it. It's about as amicable as a teenaged breakup can go, but Laura is obviously heartbroken at the end of her first serious relationship, and Kali is, of course, right there to comfort her. Now that she's the center of Laura's universe, all the strange behavior stops. No more booze, no more one-night stands, no more histrionics. She pulls her grades back up. Everything's okay for a while.

If there's a triggering event that sends her back into a downward spiral, it's not mentioned in the journal. But all of a sudden, in April, things get bad again. Laura is back on her feet after her break-up and is being social again. Kali starts getting demanding and jealous again. Laura's older and wiser now, and less inclined to put up with it. The tighter Kali tries to hold onto her, the more she struggles to get free.

'April 27th. Room sign-up today. I'm getting a quad with Ruby, Dee, and Simone. Screw it. I'm done with this.'

'April 28th. Predictably, Kali threw an epic fit when I told her I was getting the quad and she wasn't invited. I just can't even put up with it any longer. She got all melodramatic and told me she would kill herself. I told her to go right the fuck ahead. Does that make me a terrible person?'

'April 30th. Kali came in drunk and crying last night. She can't find anyone to room with her and doesn't know what she's going to do next year. I told her to just get a single. She's going to be a senior. She said she can't; they're all gone already, because of _course_ she didn't listen to me the first eight times I told her I _wasn't_ going to room with her again and she had better make other arrangements.

I felt bad, so this morning we went down to the housing authority to see if there was anything we could do. Kali told the RD that I had promised I would room with her again! I told her that wasn't true, that I told her months ago I was getting the quad. She said it's discrimination, that I'm just not comfortable rooming with her because she's a lesbian. From the look the RD gave me, you'd think I kicked a puppy! I tried to explain that that wasn't true, but all I got was a lecture. What the hell! I'm calling Mom.'

'May 3rd. Looks like the roommate situation isn't going to be a problem. Unbeknownst to me, Kali is flunking three classes and is in major trouble for plagiarism. She won't be back next year. Her parents are pulling her out.'

'May 5th. When I got back from classes this afternoon, all of Kali's things were gone. Most of my stuff was completely trashed. Mom is going to come by with some emergency supplies for me because Kali ripped up my books, cut up my clothes, and threw most of my other stuff in the showers. I'm glad my journal was in my backpack along with most of my homework and textbooks, because pretty much everything in the room is ruined. Mrs. Steele left a note for me saying she was really, really sorry, that they were checking Kali into a clinic to get her the help she needs. She'll reimburse me for all my things. I'm glad Kali is getting help, but mostly I'm just glad she's gone.'

There's no further mention of Kali. Stiles is in a second journal by now, this one black with stars on the cover. He flips through, skimming for her name, but doesn't see it. She doesn't turn up again until almost three years later, in a journal that's got kittens on the front, when she calls Laura out of the blue to offer her condolences for what happened to the Hale family.

'June 6th: You'd never guess who called me today: Kali Steele. She heard about what happened and wanted to know if there was anything she could do. I wasn't exactly thrilled to hear from her, but she seemed honestly concerned. It's been three years, and I know her family got her into treatment, so I chatted with her for a bit. She's an _alpha_ now, and part of the alpha pack, which is some scary shit all on its own. Though I guess if anyone could handle her craziness, it's probably a bunch of alphas. She seemed okay. I told her I didn't really want to talk about what happened. She said maybe they would come out to New York to say hi. I hope she doesn't.'

But of course, Kali did.

'August 7th. Who should show up today but the alpha pack? Apparently they're here to evaluate me because I'm an alpha now. I explained to them that I didn't have a pack, just a traumatized shell of a kid brother. Trevor, the pack leader, seemed understanding enough. But Kali, oh my God, Kali. At first she was all glad to see me and like 'it's been so long' 'you're so beautiful now' 'I'm so happy you're finally an alpha'. And then she came out and said that they wanted me to join the alpha pack. That I wouldn't have to go through the trial because she would vouch for me.

I told her I couldn't because I had to take care of Derek. He's my only family now – well, and Uncle Peter. I still feel bad about leaving California, but every day we spent there, Derek was just withdrawing further. He needed the change of scenery – and there's nothing I can do for Peter. God, it breaks my heart to write that.

Anyway, Kali, of course, got all pissed off. She hasn't changed one fucking bit. She said it was an _honor_ to be chosen for the alpha pack and that any _true_ werewolf would jump at the chance. I said I would go, but only if I could bring Derek along with me – he's just a beta, but he wouldn't have to be a member of the pack proper. I would look out for him.

Trevor seemed okay with it, actually, but Kali wouldn't even hear of it. Of course! Because if Derek was there, Kali wouldn't be the person I was focused on. God fucking forbid, right? She said I couldn't bring Derek. So I said that I would have to decline, and if that meant I had to go through the trial, so be it. But of course I can't, because I don't have a pack. Trevor said that since Kali vouched for me, he'd let it go, but if I ever get a pack I'll have to do it. Okay, I said, no problem. But I don't think it's over . . .'

'August 10th. Kali's left me six voicemails in the last twenty-four hours. In three of them she's screaming at me for turning down her offer. In two more she's all sweetness and light. And in the last one she's crying and apologetic. It's like being in high school all over again.'

'August 15th. Fuck it. I went down to the police and filed a report against Kali today. She won't leave me alone. She comes by at all hours. Sometimes she 'just wants to hang out' and brings a six-pack and a movie. Sometimes she's threatening me if I won't join the alpha pack. And sometimes she seems honestly terrified at what the alpha pack is going to do to me for 'ducking the trial', as she puts it – as if any of them even give a fuck! She's the one with the problem.'

There's only one more entry that references Kali. It's undated and after a blank page, so it can't be missed, and the first line sends a chill down Stiles' spine.

'Kali, I know you're reading this.'

He gives a little shudder and resists the urge to look over his shoulder.

'I know you were here last night and that you went through my stuff. I know what you said to Derek. Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell? Did you think I wouldn't _smell_ you?

'We are done. I'll never forgive you for the way you frightened Derek and tried to take away the only stability that he has. Our family was _murdered_, you selfish cunt. I'm all he has. How could you possibly think that you would be more important to me than him?

'So just for the record, I'm going to put this in the simplest terms I can to make sure it gets through your thick skull.

'I don't love you.

'I've never loved you.

'There was a time I would have called you a friend, but that time is now long past. I tried for years to help you, at the risk of my own sanity and sometimes my own life. I _tried_ to be your friend, Kali, but you're poison. I can't have you in my life.

'If I ever see you again, I will fucking _kill_ you.

'I talked to Trevor and he said that the alpha pack is leaving tomorrow, with or without you. Go with them. That's not advice, it's not a suggestion. It's an order. Because if you stay, the gloves are coming off. I will deal with you once and for all, like I should have dealt with you the day you showed up in my life again.

'Goodbye, Kali.'

There are three blank pages after that entry, as if Laura needed space to move on from it, to close that chapter of her life. Then there's an entry about the new job she's gotten as a photographer's assistant, the new apartment they've gotten, moving from Queens to Manhattan. Stiles wonders if they needed to leave everything behind to get away from the scent Kali left. Either way, Kali is never mentioned again.

Stiles closes the journal, his mind turning over all this new information, trying to cope with the loss and sorrow that permeated so much of Laura's life. Finally, he tucks the journal away in one of the boxes and goes into the studio. Derek is sitting in front of a painting of an old house in the woods. Stiles walks up behind him and leans his chin on Derek's shoulder.

"Was it helpful?" Derek finally asks.

"Yeah, I think it was," Stiles says.

"Then I don't regret it," Derek replies.

Stiles lets out a breath. "Come on," he says quietly. "I have some things I need to do."


	10. Chapter 10

_So I was reading "Jeff Davis Answers Your Asks" on the Teen Wolf tumblr and all I have to say is . . . I'm pretty sure that so much of what I've made up is inaccurate, LOL. Season 3 is going to really fuck with this AU's canon. XD_

* * *

Chapter Ten

By this point it's nearly five PM, and Stiles knows there are several stops he needs to make. He could put things on hold until the next day, but he's tired of this shit. He wants it to be done with. So he calls Scott at Dr. Deaton's office and explains things to him and Isaac. He calls Lydia, who puts him on speaker while he explains things to the girls. He calls his father, who predictably is not a fan of these new developments.

Once the calls have been made, they get in the Jeep and he drives to the Argent house. Derek agrees, very reluctantly, to wait in the car while he talks to Chris. It's not that Chris would hurt Derek – he wouldn't violate the code – but every time the two of them are together, both of them get their back up. Stiles wants to avoid conflict when he's asking for a favor.

Chris opens the door, hesitates, and then stands back to let him in. "What is it?"

"I'm going to be out of town tonight," Stiles says, and Chris blinks at him in surprise. "I know, I know. It's a long story. But there's someone I need to go see. I would appreciate it if you would let the rest of the pack stay here tonight." He sees Chris raise his eyebrows. "Not Derek. He'll be with me. Just the others."

"You're concerned about their safety?" Chris asks.

"Wouldn't you be?" Stiles replies.

After a moment, Chris nods. But then he says, "You didn't tell me you had two new pack members."

"Why would I have told you that?" Stiles asks. When he sees Chris' jaw set in that stubborn, angry expression, he says, "Both of them were turned with consent, after the situation was explained to them in full. They had their reasons, which are none of your business, and it's not me who made sure they understood the pros and cons, it was my dad. I'm not a complete idiot, you know."

"Fine," Chris says.

"You'll let them stay? All of them, even Scott?"

"Yes," Chris says.

"And you'll give me your word that you'll protect them not only from the alpha pack, but from Vivien and Tyrone if they decide to try anything?"

Chris nods again. "You have my word."

"Great. I owe you one."

Stiles jogs back to the car. That had gone better than expected. Chris is always prickly, but if you give him enough time and don't press the issue, he can generally be relied upon to do the right thing. Derek is looking at his phone when he gets back in the car. "Get the address?" he says, and Derek nods. "Great. One more stop."

They drive to the Plaza Inn. This will be his first interaction with the alpha pack since being cornered by the hunters, and he's not particularly looking forward to it. There's no way Derek will wait in the car this time, either. In fact, the older man is practically glued to his back as he walks up and knocks on the door.

Again, it's Ravinder who opens it. He looks a little tired, and definitely surprised to see him, but gives him a nod. "I hope you are recovering well," he says.

"Thanks," Stiles says. "Is Kali here?"

"No," Ravinder says. "Kali and the twins have gone to pick up something to eat."

Stiles feels some of the tension drain out of Derek. He feels some of it leave him, as well. Facing Kali is not something he needs to do right now. "Good," he says. "I needed to let you know I'm not going to be available for the next twenty-four hours for any sort of tasks or trials."

At this, Ravinder's eyebrows go up. "That's not exactly how this works."

There's a pause while Stiles chokes down the rage that's rising in his throat. He takes a deep breath. "Okay," he says, "let me put this simply. I don't care. I don't care how this fucking trial works. I don't care if this offends your delicate sensibilities. Since this trial has begun, everything has been weighted against me. Kali's not impartial. You've set this up to be impossible. You know damned well that she's a fucking psycho. You've known that for years and you've done nothing to curb her because you're so attached to your status as an 'observer'. So observe this: I'm not going to be available for the next twenty-four hours. I'm not asking permission. I'm doing you a courtesy and keeping you informed. I have something I need to do."

Justin shoulders past Ravinder at this point, and he looks pissed as hell. For the first time, Stiles really notices how _big_ Justin is, easily six inches taller than him, broader at the shoulders, and stacked with muscle on every inch. Even Derek doesn't compare. "Does this have to do with the trial?" he asks.

Stiles considers carefully. "Not directly," he says.

Justin narrows his eyes at Stiles. "Does this have something to do with the hunters ambushing you?"

"Not directly," Stiles says again.

"Look," Justin says, "you can't run. If you run, we _have_ to chase you – "

"Justin!" Ravinder says sharply. "You can't tell him that – "

"Oh, fuck you, Rindi, the whole trial has been fucked sideways from the very beginning, it's not like it makes a God damned bit of difference – "

Stiles clears his throat. "Guys! I'm not trying to run. You have my word that I'll be back in town by dinner tomorrow. And my whole pack is staying here except for Derek. If I was going to run, I would sure as fuck all bring them with me."

"If this is about the fact that Kali sicced the hunters on you," Justin says, and hesitates. "Man, we didn't know she was going to do that. I swear to you that we didn't."

"I believe you," Stiles says. "But there's something I have to do. I need to go see someone. Yes, it's about Kali. I'm not going to tell you any more than that. Okay?"

After a long moment, Justin nods. "Yeah, okay," he says.

"Okay?" Stiles says again, this time directing the question to Ravinder.

Ravinder nods. "Very well."

"Thank you." Stiles turns on his heel and walks back to the Jeep. Derek climbs in beside him. They make a quick stop at a Burger King and then hit the road.

The Steele family is not as centrally located as the Hale family, and have a large swath of land in the Sierra Nevadas, about halfway between Yosemite National Park and Lake Tahoe. It's a long drive from Beacon Hills, almost six hours, the last hour of which is on winding, narrow mountain roads.

Derek remarks dourly that six hours trapped in a car with Stiles ought to serve as punishment for everything he's done wrong since arriving in Beacon Hills. Stiles can't help but agree, but laughs at him anyway. He plays loud rock music, sings along, and drums on the steering wheel. He talks about an endless stream of whatever pops into his head, and drinks lots of coffee. Derek stares out the window with a long-suffering expression that clearly conveys how much he's enjoying every minute of this.

Around eleven o'clock at night, they're close enough to their destination that Stiles opts to park the Jeep and get some sleep. They're in the middle of absolute nowhere, and if there's a hotel nearby, he has no idea where. But it's summer and nice out even in the mountains, and he folds down the back seat so they can sprawl out. He doesn't have to worry about security when he has a two-hundred pound wolf to use as a pillow. He calls Scott to check in with the pack. They're holed up in Allison's room while Chris and Victoria pretend they don't exist, which is fine by all of them.

They're up with the sun the next morning, because it's impossible not to be when basically sleeping outside. Derek stretches his legs and they take a brief run through the forest. Being away from the alpha pack and momentarily out of harm's way has made both of them a little giddy. Derek would absolutely never admit to it, but he comes quite close to frolicking. Stiles jogs along with him, enjoying the fresh air.

Once the hour is decent, they continue along the road until they come to a small cabin. Stiles parks the Jeep and they go up the front steps and ring the bell. After discussion in the car, they've decided that Derek will do the initial talking, not because he's so charming, but just because there's a chance his name will be recognized.

The woman who answers the door is on the short side and somewhat plump, wearing a house-dress and an apron. Nothing about her says 'werewolf' except the scent that surrounds her. Derek gives her a passable smile and says, "Mrs. Steele?"

"Yes . . .?" She looks completely baffled. Stiles supposes that they don't get many visitors up here in the mountains.

"Hi, uh, sorry to drop on you like this," Derek says. "My name's Derek Hale. You may have heard of me?"

For a moment she's blank, and then her eyes go wide. "Of course! Laura's little brother. She used to talk about you sometimes. I was so sorry to hear that she was killed. She was always such a good person. So patient and understanding."

"This is my alpha, Stiles," Derek says, and Stiles extends his hand and shakes hers, but then also leans forward and bumps cheeks with her in the more traditional animal greeting. Mrs. Steele smells like wolf, but also like apples and fresh grass.

"So what brings you up here?" she asks.

"Well, we're here about your daughter Kali." Stiles, having been introduced, takes control of the conversation.

He's startled when Mrs. Steele grabs him by the shoulders and nearly shakes him. "Do you know where she is?" she demands, and _now_ he can see the wolf, now the scent is overwhelming and her eyes are gleaming vivid gold. Derek lets out a low rumble, not quite threatening enough to be a growl, and she lets him go abruptly. "I – I'm sorry," she says. "It's just that I – " Her voice breaks. "Please, won't you come in?"

The two of them go inside. She makes tea and sits them both down with a homemade apple turnover.

"I haven't seen Kali in almost ten years," she says, sitting down with them. "That's the last time she left home."

"Well," Stiles says, "Kali is currently in Beacon Hills, making my life a living hell. Mrs. Steele – "

"Oh, please call me Kendra," she interrupts.

"Okay," Stiles says. "Kendra, I need your help with Kali. She's out of control. And she's hurting a lot of people. I figured if anyone could help me, it would be you."

Kendra looks stricken for a moment, then sadly shakes her head. "I'm sorry, but you're barking up the wrong tree. I haven't been able to control Kali since she was eight years old." She looks at Derek and says anxiously, "Laura – she didn't have anything to do with Laura's death, did she?"

"No," Derek says quietly.

Kendra sags with relief. "She . . . she always . . ."

"I know," Derek says.

Stiles gives Mrs. Steele the story so far, and he includes his suspicions about Trevor's death. None of this seems to surprise her, although it's obvious that it breaks her heart.

"Ever since she was little . . . Kali was just . . . uncontrollable," she says, staring into her mug of tea. "We took her to doctors and they threw all sorts of names at her. Oppositional defiant disorder. Narcissistic personality disorder. One of them even called her a sociopath. We tried drugs and behavioral modification, but none of it worked. I didn't want to send her to the boarding school, but Victor – my husband – he insisted. He said that I was going to drive myself crazy worrying about her, that they had modifications for students like her. If they could handle werewolves and vampires and real live monsters, surely they could handle a monster like Kali. And we had three other children to worry about. I was always terrified Kali would try to hurt them.

"While she was at school, she just became obsessed with Laura. The things she said when we finally pulled her out . . . it was a nightmare. We just didn't know what to do with her. She would stay at the hospital and get better for a while, we would try new medications, but nothing ever changed her. She was just . . . she just wasn't _right_. She never has been, and probably never will be. Eventually we decided we would keep her here, far away from anyone she could hurt. It was a prison, and she knew it, and she hated us for it, but we were stronger than she was.

"In December the year after Kali turned eighteen, my husband was killed. It was an accident – really. He was driving during heavy snow and just lost control of the car. Well – you got here, so you've seen the roads up here. You can get snow even in May. The car went into a frozen lake, and . . . even an alpha . . .

"The Steele family has always had multiple alphas because we've got so much territory to cover. When they found my husband's body, half the pack was down at the lake. And it was horrible, of course it was horrible, but some of the younger ones were like 'well, I'm not an alpha yet, how about you?' 'Nope, not me.' 'Me neither.' And I thought, 'oh, no. No. Not Kali.' But I _knew_. I could feel it. She had all the right personality traits to be an alpha, and she was his oldest daughter.

"When I got home . . . she had gone into a rage and destroyed pretty much everything. And she was gone. No note, nothing. To this day, I honestly . . ." Kendra chokes a little. "I'm honestly surprised she didn't wait here to kill me. But I guess she just wanted to get away from us more than anything else.

"I heard through the grapevine that she had joined the alpha pack . . . I _prayed_ that they would be able to control her. But now she's in charge of it, and she just . . . she's never going to be okay. And she's going to drag everyone else down with her. Everything she touches just . . . withers and dies."

Kendra falls silent. Stiles is thinking of Laura's journal. Of the words 'you're poison'. Kali taints everything she's part of.

They leave not long after that. Kendra calls after them as they make their way down the front walk to Stiles' Jeep. "If . . . if you have to kill her . . . I understand," she says. "But please . . . please let it be quick. She can't help who she is. She just wasn't made right somehow. Kill her if you need to . . . but please don't hurt her."

Stiles looks at her for a long moment, knowing he can never understand what she's going through. He nods and says, "I'll try."

Behind them, as they descend the steep grade of the road to the house, he hears a howl: a mournful, desolate sound. He looks over his shoulder and sees a gray wolf standing on top of a boulder near the house, head lifted to the sky. A wolf howls to try to signal her pack, but Kendra Steele's pack is never coming home. A shudder shakes him, and he's glad for Derek's reassuring hand on his elbow.

They don't speak for a long time. Finally, Derek says, "I guess we learned some things."

"Yeah, but I don't feel like we found any answers," Stiles says. "Just more questions."

* * *

The drive back from the mountains seems to take a lot longer than the drive there. Stiles feels tired, not from a lack of sleep, but tired in a more profound way than that. Derek is moody and distant, staring out the window for most of the trip. Stiles can't forget what Kendra Steele said as they left. He can't help but think there has to be some solution, some way to fix this problem that he's just not seeing.

They get back to Beacon Hills in the midafternoon. Scott had the day off, so everyone is still at the Argent house. Stiles pulls up the Jeep and just sits for a minute. He's not ready to face the others. "Hey," he says. "What do you think we should do?"

Derek glances over at him and slouches down into his seat. "We should tell the alpha pack what happened to Trevor."

"Yeah," Stiles says, and he knows that Derek is right. After a few moments, he sighs and gets out of the car. Derek follows him, albeit reluctantly. He doesn't want to sit on the street in plain sight any more than he wants to go into the Argent house. But they find the pack whole and unharmed, playing around with a Frisbee in the backyard.

As they're leaving, Chris Argent emerges from the basement. He frowns at the group, particularly at Derek, and then gives Stiles a little gesture. "I'll catch up with you guys," Stiles says, and Derek frowns but the others usher him out to the car. "What's up?" Stiles asks.

Chris is obviously uncomfortable having this discussion, but he says, grudgingly, "Thanks."

Stiles gives him an innocent little smile. "For?"

Chris returns the smile with an irritated look, knowing that Stiles knows the answer but wants to make him say it. "You wanted them to stay here as an apology for what happened in the hospital."

"You were worried about Allison," Stiles says. "It's cool. I get it."

Chris just shakes his head a little. "Sometimes I think you're too smart for your own good."

"God, I wish I felt that way," Stiles says. Now he's the one who's hesitating, uncomfortable. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

A frown creases Chris' face. Since, 'dear Lord, what now?' obviously isn't the right answer, he says, "You can always ask."

"When Gerard was training me . . . he never talked about the code. I guess by then, the code had gone by the wayside as far as he was concerned. So I don't really know much about it. It has to be more than 'we hunt those who hunt us'. How do you decide when someone deserves to die?"

Chris lets out a breath. "When someone is hurting other people . . . not necessarily killing them, but . . . when someone is destroying other lives. And they can't be stopped any other way. That's when."

"When it was Peter . . . it seemed so simple. There were so many factors, so many reasons he needed to die, that it just seemed black and white. But for some reason this situation seems totally different, even though Kali's the same way. She's killed people, she's ruined lives. I have to protect my pack, and I don't think she'll ever stop. It's the exact same situation. It seems like it should be easy this time."

"It's never easy," Chris says. "It never _should_ be easy. The day it's easy, you've become one of the monsters."

Stiles hunches his shoulders in a little bit. "I just wish I knew what to do."

"You weigh all the factors. You make the decision rationally, and you'll come to one that your emotional side can live with." Chris shakes his head a little. "You're making a fundamental mistake here. You think that because you've killed one person, that makes you a killer. But you're not a killer, Stiles. You were put in a difficult situation and you made a difficult choice, a choice that not everyone would have been strong enough to make. And it was the right choice. But you don't have to be judge, jury, and executioner all on your own."

Stiles has to take a deep breath and swallow the lump in his throat before he can say anything. He wouldn't give up the pack for anything, but there are times when he wishes he could go back to being a regular teenager, where the biggest things he had to worry about were whether or not Lydia would look in his direction, his chemistry test, and the zit on his chin. This is his life now; this is the world he's going to be in the rest of his life. There are always going to be difficult choices to make. "Thanks," he finally says.

Chris gives him a nod. "What happens if she's killed? Does that mean you fail the trial?"

"You know, I don't actually know," Stiles says, with a sigh. "And I don't really think I can ask. 'So if I kill your leader, what happens then?' Awk_ward_."

Chris gives a snort of laughter despite himself. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. Frankly, that's what worries me."

Stiles gives him a sloppy salute and says, "I'll do my best."

He jogs out to the car feeling a little better and heads home. When the pack gets back to the Stilinski house, they find Ravinder waiting outside, leaning against the hood of his silver sports car. He waits politely while they get out of their respective vehicles, then approaches. "I'm sorry to disturb your homecoming," he says, "but I was hoping to speak with you privately. Would you come with me?"

Stiles looks at the others. Nobody looks happy about it, but he nods a little and says, "Okay with me, if it's okay with them."

Derek lets out a low growl. Ravinder raises a hand and says, "You have my word, as a wolf of the Chandra pack, that he will come to no harm at my hands."

"I'll be all right, Derek," Stiles says quietly, and after a moment, Derek nods. Stiles follows Ravinder to the car and gets in the passenger seat. It's a sweet ride, so low slung that he can practically feel the pavement scraping the bottom of his seat. He wonders, not for the first time, where the alpha pack gets their funding.

It's midday and sunny, but Ravinder drives with the windows down. The heat makes Stiles a little drowsy, and they don't try to talk over the noise of the wind. He takes them out of town a little ways and parks the car on the side of a forest road. Without a word, he gets out and starts walking down a little path. Stiles follows him curiously, until they end at a brook, and Ravinder takes a seat on a boulder.

"I like this town," he says. "This Beacon Hills. It is a nice place. I have seen many far worse over the course of my life."

"Thanks," Stiles says, uncertain of what the correct response really is.

Ravinder pulls his knees up to his chest and regards Stiles thoughtfully. "You are a good alpha, Stiles. I have rarely seen one better, as a matter of fact. So many wolves strive to be alphas because they crave power. You are one of the few I have met who understands the . . ." There's a pause while he searches for words. "The balance. That being the alpha means that you have power over your pack, but also that you are responsible for them. That they desire to protect you as much as you desire to protect them. That the strength gained from a larger pack is balanced with the added mouths to feed and wolves to safeguard."

"Thanks," Stiles says again.

"Do you know the parable of the two wolves?" Ravinder asks him.

"Can't say that I do."

"It is a legend from the Cherokee," Ravinder says. "Wherein an old man is teaching his grandson about the world. He tells his grandson, 'A fight is going on inside me. It is a terrible fight between two wolves. One wolf is evil. He is pride, jealousy, regret, greed, lies, and ego. One wolf is good. He is humility, serenity, kindness, generosity, truth, and compassion. The same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person you will meet.' The grandson asks in return, 'Which wolf will win?' And the grandfather replies, 'The one you feed.'"

Stiles is quiet for a minute. The story is almost profound in its simplicity, but he's not sure why Ravinder is telling it to him.

"I judge the alphas by which wolf they feed. Not by which wolf is winning – because even the best person can be overcome by terrible circumstances. But by which wolf they feed. I have seen you protect your pack, at danger to yourself, and even try to protect mine, like when you warned Justin that Kali was working with the hunters. I have seen you struggle with your anger over what Kali has done and your ego when your control over your pack is called into question. And I think, for the most part, that in the end, the good wolf will prevail."

"That's . . . great, Ravinder," Stiles says, again wondering what they're doing here.

Ravinder is quiet for a long minute. "Kali is the only person I've ever known who does not seem to be engaged in this battle. It's as if . . . she was born with only the evil wolf. There is no internal struggle in her. Oh, she can pretend. She can put on a good show, when the occasion calls for it. But in the end, everything she does is in self-interest.

"You were right, you know, in what you said to me at the hotel. And to be honest, it is high-time someone said it to my face, but the others never would have dared. I have indeed known for years that Kali is insane, and I have allowed it to go on for far too long. It pains me to admit it, but perhaps I am a little afraid of her. There is a maliciousness to her, a vindictive, relentless cruelty that can be somewhat disquieting. That is why I never told anyone that she is responsible for what happened to Trevor and Haji."

Stiles startles at this. "You _knew_?" He shakes his head. "Damn. You're the one who tipped off the police."

"Yes, for all the good that it did." Ravinder shakes his head slightly. "Did you think it was Sara? No, her death at the hands of the hunters was an honest one; I don't believe Kali had anything to do with it. We were coming down the fire escape of a building. When she was shot, she lost her balance and fell. Alphas can survive many things, but a fifteen story fall is not one of them."

"Okay," Stiles says, "but if you knew about Trevor . . ."

"That day . . . no. It is better if I start at the beginning. It is better if you truly understand Kali, if you are going to try to defeat her."

Stiles frowns a little, but says nothing.

"I met Trevor when he was fifteen. Much like your Erica, he had chosen life as a wolf as an attempt to cure his congenital condition. Unfortunately, it didn't work as well as he would have liked. You see, his heart became overactive when stressed, not underactive, and thus the wolf healing actually had a tendency to exacerbate his symptoms, rather than alleviate them. He was sure to always carry his rescue medication for this reason. Once he took it, his wolf could deal with the trouble without issue, but if he didn't get it, it could cost his life. It was something I noted in passing without real attention. I am from a family of born wolves, and thus the reasons people have chosen to be turned have always seemed somewhat esoteric to me.

"Then seven years later, we met again, when he became an alpha. The alpha pack tends to recruit from among alphas that do not have their own pack, as most who do would have no interest in joining us. That is one of the reasons we invited Laura Hale. Trevor had become the alpha of his pack after an attack by hunters had left most of them dead. His dying alpha had passed the mantle of power onto him willingly. Trevor chose to join us, because he was young, and he didn't think he would be able to protect the others if the hunters came back. They were absorbed into another pack not too far away.

"Trevor was strong, and intelligent, and he became the pack leader only a few years later. We were content under his leadership, a cohesive unit. Then we met Kali. Like most of us, she had no pack of her own. She told us that her family had turned away from her because of her sexuality." Ravinder sees Stiles open his mouth and says, "Yes, I know by now that this is not true."

"It's not the first time she's used it to get people in trouble, either," Stiles remarks.

"That does not surprise me," Ravinder replies. "But as I said, she can put on a good show. She was alone, and frightened, or so it seemed at the time. But she made the makings of a good alpha, and if she was a little willful, we chalked that up to her difficult circumstances. Trevor invited her to join us, and she did. But she chafed underneath his control. We all saw it after a while, but alphas are headstrong by necessity, so it didn't particularly bother us. One of the things that made Trevor a good pack leader was that he had the necessary force of personality to keep even the most difficult alphas in line.

"Or so we thought, until Laura Hale came into the picture. And everything about Kali changed – or more accurately, it _intensified_. The stubbornness that was an annoyance before became unmanageable. Her anger became rage. Trevor hoped that when Laura turned us down, that would be the end of it. But Kali refused to take no for an answer, and none of us could convince her. To be honest, we didn't know what to do. It was too dangerous to simply leave her. Then Laura came and spoke to Trevor. She said that if Kali wasn't gone the next day, she was going to kill her, plain and simple. She was . . . she was in such pain. She mourned her family and now her friend, but Laura had all the makings of an amazing alpha, and Derek was her priority, over even herself. She would have killed Kali, if it had come to that. Trevor told Kali we were leaving, and she could either stay with us or go. I don't know what Laura said to Kali, but she came with us.

"But after that, every time she looked at Trevor, you could see the resentment. Kali's reality, it was not the same as ours. She blamed Laura's rejection on Trevor, as if it had not, _could not_, have come from Laura herself. Not long after that, we had our first run-in with the hunters that we had had in some time. Several members of the pack were injured, including myself. Trevor didn't want any of us going out alone, but Kali flaunted his judgment, disappearing at random intervals, sometimes for days at a time.

"Then we picked up Justin. Kali didn't want him in the pack – I don't think there was any specific reason. I think she simply didn't like him. Poor Justin. He had been turned by an alpha who had gone power mad, and had brainwashed a bunch of orphans and street children into his followers. Justin had finally snapped out of it and killed his alpha – and had been forced to kill almost his entire pack when they tried to protect him. He was more than a little bit crazy himself, but Trevor took pity on him. He hadn't known any better. Trevor decided to take him into the alpha pack on a probationary status. Justin recovered quickly, and before long he became a formal member of the pack.

"It was almost a year later before we were in the middle of an alpha trial in Pennsylvania. The task was some sort of maze, and we had split into pairs to monitor the actions of the alpha and her pack. Kali's suggestion. Of course . . . it would have been. There were eight of us, then, so nobody was left the odd one out. But then we heard gunfire.

"I found Trevor's body, with Haji not far away. Haji had been cut in half, but not Trevor. And I knew, somehow. I checked his pockets for his medication, but it wasn't there. His healing had tried to compensate for the bullets, and in doing so it killed him." Ravinder rests his chin on his knees. "I tried to tip off the police, but realized that it wouldn't do any good. Kali declared herself leader of the pack."

"She just declared it?" Stiles interrupts for the first time. "Nobody tried to stop her?"

"We did." Ravinder shakes his head. "But you haven't spent enough time around Kali to realize how manipulative she can be. How when the moment is right, she can say all the right words. 'Now isn't the time to be fighting amongst ourselves.' 'We need a strong leader with experience right now.' With Trevor and Haji both dead, it was difficult to argue. I could have taken over myself, but I have never wanted that responsibility, and Kali had the others convinced. Perhaps they did not know her as I did, because they do not watch, the way I do. And she was . . . different back then. Since Laura's rejection, she has deteriorated. Even in the last week, since we arrived here, I have seen her lose more and more control. In any case, I told myself that as long as she was competent at judging new alphas, it didn't matter. And for the most part, she is. Her tasks are perhaps more harsh than is necessary, but I have never strongly disagreed with her judgment.

"If anyone, I should have told Justin," Ravinder continues. "He idolized Trevor, who saved his life. But I was afraid that Justin would challenge her directly, as is his way, and was – and still am – certain that doing so would have ended in disaster. He isn't strong enough to beat her. Oh, he could win in a fair fight, but Kali doesn't fight fair. She has never fought fair." He gives Stiles a look and says, "Perhaps that is why I've felt since meeting you that you were the one who could defeat her. Because you aren't a wolf. Because you aren't bound by the same instincts as we are.

"Or that is what I thought . . . until today."

Stiles blinks at him. "What happened today?"

"The last trial begins today." Ravinder closes his eyes, and Stiles feels a chill go down his spine. "Some of the trials endure, and are always the same, no matter the alpha being tested. The interviews of the beta are such a trial, and the final trial is another. When you get back to your house, your pack will not be there."

Stiles shoots to his feet and snaps, "You tricked me, you piece of shit – "

"No," Ravinder says, and shakes his head. "I truly did want a chance to speak with you privately. And you would not have been given a choice about being separated. Just as during the first trial, your pack had to find you, now you must find them."

"Then what?" Stiles asks. "Because I'm guessing it's not that simple."

"Your pack is brought to a secure location, and one of the alpha pack is designated to be the, shall we say, obstacle. You must get past them to get to your pack." Ravinder looks up at him. "Under normal circumstances, at this point we would have an idea of what sort of skills and personality the alpha being tested has, and choose the obstacle appropriately. I would have chosen Mei for you, most likely – she is small and quick, as you are, a suitable opponent. And the fight continues until one yields. It should not be to the death, and you don't even necessarily have to win in order to pass, as long as you demonstrate your devotion to your pack appropriately, and skill enough. But you will not be facing Mei."

"I'll be facing Kali," Stiles says, and Ravinder nods. Stiles lets out a breath. "Great."

"In a fight, you cannot hope to defeat her," Ravinder says.

"Thanks," Stiles says. "You wanna put that in a memo and title it 'shit I already know?'"

"When we first met, I gave you the opportunity to forfeit," Ravinder says. "That was a test. This is not. You have my word. I do not think you should die for Kali's spite. If you would like, I will speak to the other alphas. We will release your pack. We will call the trial over. Incomplete, neither pass nor fail."

"And what would happen to Kali?" Stiles asks. "If you still don't think Justin is strong enough to beat her? Are you telling me that all the alphas together would take her on?"

Ravinder shakes his head. "I do not know. The twins, they have not been in the pack long enough to know what sort of person she is. Mei is nonconfrontational and Yasmin is afraid of Kali. Justin and I, perhaps together, could take her on . . ."

"No." Stiles feels calm now. It's an amazing feeling. Somehow, while listening to Ravinder talk, he's come to a decision. "That's not how this is going to work. Because this is about more than me. This is about Kendra Steele, who asked me not to hurt her daughter. It's about Laura Hale, who spent years trying to be Kali's friend. It's about Justin, who doesn't even know who killed the man who saved his life." Stiles folds his arms over his chest. "You told me that you thought I could beat Kali before today. Well, today is no different from yesterday. She's between me and my pack, and _nothing_ comes between me and my pack."

Ravinder studies him for a long minute, then nods. "Very well. I will drive you back into town. You have until the moon sets to come for your pack. They will be well-treated in the meantime, and were not harmed when the others came to get them. You have my word. Justin and Yasmin are with them."

"Good." Stiles starts along the path to the car. He feels energized, invigorated. Here is something he knows how to handle. Because he doesn't need to kill Kali. He needs to break her. And that's something he knows that he can do.

Ravinder drives him back to his house. He collects his keys, his chain mail, his .38, his wolfsbane, his baseball bat wrapped in silver wire, and Laura's old journals. With those in hand, he prepares to go into battle.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

It's not difficult for Stiles to find his pack. He doesn't need mystical senses or GPS. He knows exactly where they're going to be. Every step he takes in the direction of the Hale house only has him more pissed off. He reminds himself several times that the others will be okay, that Derek may not be comfortable waiting in the burned out remains of his family home, but it won't actually hurt him.

He's made a number of preparations. His Jeep is filled with all the different things he's going to need. He parks it in the drive to the Hale house and hops out. Kali is waiting for him on the front porch, a smirk on her face. Stiles walks over until he's about ten feet away. "My pack's inside?" he says, more to confirm than anything else. She just shrugs at him, so he raises his voice. "You guys okay in there?"

"We're fine," several voices call out.

"Okay." Stiles looks at Kali and says, "Give me a minute."

"Take your time," she responds, clearly amused. Stiles walks over to the Jeep and busies himself with what he brought. He's had stupider ideas, he's sure, but he's also pretty sure that this one is going to get him yelled at by everyone he knows. Possibly everyone he's ever met. But he's been thinking about it for a while now, and this is the best idea he has.

When he's ready, he turns around and walks towards Kali. As he goes, he strips off his leather jacket. Then he takes off his shoulder holster, carefully setting his gun down next to the jacket. She can see the chain mail this time, because he wore it over his T-shirt, but then he takes that off as well and tosses it aside. He even peels off his T-shirt until he's standing there wearing nothing more than jeans and sneakers.

"What are you doing?" Kali asks, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't need all that stuff to beat you," Stiles says.

Kali laughs at him. "Well, it sure as hell won't help you. You're not wrong there."

Stiles picks up his baseball bat, then takes Laura's journal out of his back pocket. "This is all I need to beat you."

Kali's eyes gleam red. "You – "

Stiles flips it open. He doesn't need to; he's read it so many times at this point that he's pretty sure he has it memorized. But it helps the effect. "Kali, I know you're reading this," he says.

Kali snarls at him. "Cut it out."

"I know you were here last night and that you went through my stuff. I know what you said to Derek."

"Shut the fuck up!" Kali shouts.

"Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell?" Stiles asks. "Did you think I wouldn't _smell_ you?"

Kali screams and lunges at him, but Stiles is ready for her. The time he spent training with Gerard wasn't for nothing, and even now, they're all kept in shape. Allison teaches them what she learns from her father, and Derek drills all of them on physical combat, Stiles included. Nobody wants him to get hurt because he's not a wolf. And Kali is so furious that her move is easy to see coming. Stiles just bounces to one side, and she misses him entirely. He tosses the journal aside and continues to recite from memory. "We are done," he says. "I'll never forgive you for the way you frightened Derek and tried to take away the only stability he has."

He has to stay on his toes while speaking, jumping backwards twice to avoid her blows. She's shifted now, into her partially human form, and completely mad with rage. Stiles only barely ducks another blow and continues. "Our family was _murdered_, you selfish cunt."

"Shut up!" Kali screams. "Just shut the fuck up!"

"But it's not me!" Stiles retorts. "It's _Laura_. No matter how much you don't want to admit it, she's the one who wrote those things. No matter how much you try to convince yourself that you were the starring role in a tragic love story, that's not what it was. Laura _never_ loved you."

"You don't know! You don't know anything!"

"Yes, I do," Stiles says. He scrambles back behind the Jeep for cover as Kali charges forward. "Because Laura told me. It's all there in her words. Did you read her older journals when you were there? There's some great stuff in there about how you drove her fucking crazy for three years."

Stiles can feel his heart beating faster now, a little erratically, and that's a bad sign. He needs to get this over with quickly, so as he ducks back around the car towards the house, he swings the bat. Kali ducks underneath it and aims another slashing blow at Stiles' torso. He dodges backwards, but not fast enough. Three of her claws catch him right across the abdomen. The force of it knocks him down, but he rolls and bounces back to his feet.

Kali laughs at him. The scent of blood has calmed her down a little. She delicately licks off each of her fingers. "By the end of this, you're going to be _begging_ me to kill you, little boy."

Stiles presses one hand against the wounds. They're shallow. They'll bleed a lot, and probably scar, but they won't keep him from fighting. "Yeah?" he says. "Did you tell Trevor the same thing?"

Kali goes still for a moment. "What?"

"You know," Stiles says. "Before you stole his medication and set him up to get shot by the hunters."

From inside the house, he hears a snarl. It sounds like Justin, although he can't be sure.

"You son of a bitch, how dare you – " Kali stops abruptly. A strange look crosses her face, more confusion than anything else. She wavers a little. "What . . ."

"That would be the wolfsbane you're feeling," Stiles says helpfully.

Kali snarls. "You haven't laid one hit on me."

"No, but you laid one on me," Stiles says, and holds up his hand, his palm and fingers coated crimson with blood. He's feeling a little light-headed now. He's not sure if that's from the blood loss or from the aconite. "You just _had_ to do the stock villain 'if you're crazy and you know it lick your enemy's blood off your fingers' thing too, which helped."

Now Kali just looks stunned. "You . . . _took_ wolfsbane?"

"Hey, I'm not a wolf, remember?" Stiles says. "Okay, yeah, it's still toxic, but it hurts you a hell of a lot more than it hurts me."

With that, he goes on the attack. Kali is so shocked that she just stands there as he walks up to her, not even running, but just walks over and then presses his palm against her face, smearing her cheek with his blood. She lets out a little cry, almost a wolf whine, as the wolfsbane saturating his blood burns into her skin. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she screams.

"Oh, well," Stiles says, "I have ADD. I'm not very good at lacrosse. My ability to pick up girls is really embarrassing. I spent two days in the trunk of a car last winter. In short: a lot. But I also make a mean gingersnap cookie and there's _nothing_ I won't do when my pack is at stake."

He reels a little as the world abruptly gets a little fuzzy around the edges, his vision swimming out of focus for a minute. He knows all the symptoms of aconite poisoning. He was careful with his dosing, very careful, but even if the dose he took won't be fatal (probably) it was big enough to do one hell of a number on his nervous system. His heartbeat is jumping around, too. The physical exertion is speeding up the work of the poison. He needs to end this.

Kali sees his moment of difficulty and lunges forward. Her own balance has been affected too, and the two of them go down in a heap. Stiles grapples with her, and her claws dig into the flesh of his forearms. Then she pulls away, howling. He can see the blisters and burns on the skin of her hands.

"You can't touch me, bitch," he pants, getting to his feet. "There ain't shit you can do to me now. I'm Kryptonite to you."

"You – you can't – " Kali protests, but actually _cringes_ when Stiles starts toward her, and that's when Stiles knows he's won. Kali hasn't figured it out yet, and she'll continue to fight, and he's won this battle. He swings the bat straight at her face, swings it hard. She ducks backwards, then backs away a few steps. "You crazy son of a bitch!" she screams.

"Glass houses, sweet pea," Stiles says, and swings again. She stumbles backwards and falls, landing on her back, and he's on her in a heartbeat. She snarls at him, but then shrieks when a few drops of blood splash onto the skin of her chest, where her tank top leaves it bared. Stiles straddles her and presses the baseball bat against her throat. The barbs of the wire cut into her skin, bits of silver flaking off. The scream she lets out at this is a breathless howl.

"I _tried_ to be your friend, Kali," Stiles says, his own breath coming harsh and rapid, "but you're poison. I can't have you in my life."

"Let me go!" Kali wails, but her struggles aren't enough to free her. Stiles has the leverage, gravity is on his side. The wolfsbane she ingested has weakened her, and the silver entering her bloodstream is making things worse.

"If I ever see you again, I will fucking _kill_ you," Stiles says. "If you stay, the gloves are coming off. I will deal with you once and for all."

"Stop it, stop it, _stop it _ - "

"Do you yield?" Stiles asks her.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!"

Stiles presses the bat harder against her throat. His whole body is going numb now. If she doesn't yield soon, he's going to lose, and she doesn't even know it. "Do you yield?"

Kali's only response is an inarticulate, strangled scream.

"Say it!" Stiles shouts right in her face. "You know that I've won. You're only making things worse for yourself. Now do you want me to keep bleeding wolfsbane on you? Or do you want me to let you go?"

"Let me go," Kali sobs. "I yield, I yield, let me go . . ."

Stiles is up and off her moments later. He means to bolt into the house, but the feeling just floods out of his legs. He stumbles two steps and then collapses onto the front porch. Behind him, he hears Kali scrambling to her feet and thinks, vaguely, _uh oh_.

But before Kali can leap onto him and tear his throat out, wolfsbane be damned, Stiles hears a crash of glass and wood. A dark shadow passes over him, and he feels a rush of wind, and for a moment he thinks that Derek has come to his rescue. He hopes it won't impact the trial. But when he manages to turn over, it's a large gray wolf that is snapping at Kali, who has gone full wolf and is snarling. It's Justin.

The two of them circle each other for a few moments before Kali suddenly turns and runs into the forest. Stiles doesn't see what happens after that because he's managed to drag himself up to his hands and knees, and crawls – okay, it's embarrassing, but he's done worse things – into the Hale house to find his pack. He uses the door frame to get back to his feet, and staggers into what was once the living room. "Hey, you guys okay?" he asks, and then falls flat on his face. Or at least he would, except Derek grabs him before he can hit the floor.

"You fucking _idiot_," the other man is snarling.

"You're the fucking idiot, gonna make yourself sick," Stiles says, but he's having trouble breathing now, and he can feel his heart skipping beats, which is disconcerting, to put it mildly. He waves at the others. "Scott," he says. "Brought . . . brought some things. Saline bags. IV stuff. A suture kit or two in case she sliced me up. Instructions. For treating the poisoning."

"Oh my God, how stupid are you," Scott replies, and Stiles thinks of about a dozen clever retorts, but things are getting blurry fast.

"If . . . if someone has to give me CPR . . . it had better be Lydia or Erica," Stiles says, and he's going, going, gone.

* * *

Somewhere far away in the distance, Stiles can hear someone screaming. It sounds rough, scratchy, like it's being played on one of those old-timey phonographs you see in black and white movies. Hollow and indistinct, like it's coming to him down an extremely long tunnel.

It takes a minute for him to realize that the person screaming is him.

He shakes himself, like a dog coming up from underwater. Why is he screaming? Is he in pain? He's not sure. He can't really feel much of anything. His legs are all pins and needles, hands numb and tingly, like that time he used too much IcyHot after a rough lacrosse practice. Everything's fine, he's fine, and for just a moment he's entirely lucid, and then he realizes that the reason he's pins and needles is because tiny insects are burrowing up from his skin. He can see them, a black, messy swarm coating his feet and his hands, and then he's screaming again.

A dark shape lurks beside him, and he throws up a hand to defend himself, and someone grabs it. Somewhere in the background, he hears Scott say sharply, "Watch those cuts on his arm!" But he's calming down now, as someone is squeezing his hand. It hurts, but it's _pain_, not that terrible fuzzy non-pain.

"Derek, you're going to – " someone says, and then his hand is being transferred from one to another, a more slender one. The dark shape moves away, and Stiles _cries_. He can't help it. He doesn't even know why. It's back within moments, and he hears a low snarl, and then someone else's voice, "at least wear gloves, for Christ's sake – " and then he's out again.

The world is dissolving, running around the edges, and nothing seems to make sense anymore. He knows that aconite poisoning causes hallucinations and altered mental status. But these _can't_ be hallucinations; they're much too real. They're bouncing over the old dirt road but it's not Derek with him, it's Peter. The alpha leans over him, eyes gleaming red and blood dripping from his jaws. "You couldn't kill Kali, and you couldn't kill me," Peter says, his face twisted in a horrible, rictus grin. "I'm still alive, you see. You're the one who's dead. You're still in the trunk of the car . . . you've dreamed all of this in your head as you die . . ."

Stiles screams again and thrashes his way back to reality. Someone is pinning him to a bed, or a stretcher, or the floor, he's not sure, can't tell. He tries to claw his way free, because he can feel the walls closing in around him, and the terror cannot be contained.

"For Christ's sake, Stiles," he hears someone say.

"He can't help it, he's – "

"He could help it if he had tried something like _not poisoning himself _ – "

Then Justin is shaking him, all teeth and claws right up in Stiles' face. "Is it true?" he snarls. "Did that bitch kill Trevor, is that fucking true?"

Stiles wants to answer, he knows that the answer is inside him, that he can be calm and rational and explain to Justin how he knew, how he put the pieces together. He fumbles for the words, trying to put the world around him back into some sort of logical order, but it fragments again and Justin's blood drips down onto his face. It burns his skin, and he can smell the scent of cooking flesh. It's so vivid that he could be at an outdoor barbecue.

"Wolfsbane is highly toxic, you know," Gerard says, calmly sharpening his knives, and then leans over and stabs downwards, the point of the knife piercing Stiles right where he put the needle in Peter. He howls, arms waving madly as he tries to defend himself.

"You should know," his father says, but it's not his father, it's some hideous parody of the man who has raised him, who has been his anchor for so many years. His skin is rotting off his face, eyes sunken and clothes in pieces. "That's how they killed me, after all . . ."

Abruptly, everything suddenly goes fuzzy, cotton-wrapped. He doesn't even feel the sting of the needle, but some distant part of his brain notes that whatever drugs they just gave him, they are _good_. Then he passes out.

When he comes to, it's with absolutely no concept of how much time has passed. But he's feeling a lot better. His hands and legs are still somewhat tingly, which is uncomfortable, but his heart is no longer trying to beat its way free of his chest, and he's capable of studying his surroundings and identifying them. He's in a hospital bed, which irritates him. He had brought everything they would need to treat him; why had they taken him to the hospital?

It looks like he might get a chance to ask. Derek is in wolf form, curled up at the foot of his bed. Someone has hilariously put a little blue vest on him, which he supposes is how they're explaining his presence. His eyes are closed, and he looks asleep, so there will be no answers there. But Scott and Allison are there too. Scott's in the other bed in the room, leaning against the wall. Allison is cradled against his shoulder. She's asleep as well, but Scott is awake, thumbing at his phone.

Stiles clears his throat a little and tries to talk, which doesn't work at all. Scott's head jerks around. He carefully slides Allison off his lap and lays her down on the bed. "Hey," he says, hopping down and moving over to Stiles. Derek has lifted his head as well, but he stays in wolf form. Stiles thinks that they're both much happier this way; he won't have to listen to Derek's lecture and Derek won't have to talk about how worried he was. Scott gives a quick look at the monitors, the glance of someone who knows approximately what they're looking for. Then he pours Stiles a cup of water and helps him sit up enough to drink it.

"Why am I in the hospital?" Stiles asks.

Scott gives him a look that's part exasperation, part anxiety, and part anger. It's a look that Stiles doesn't much like. "Because you poisoned yourself."

"I brought everything you would need – "

"Dude, Stiles, I am _not_ a doctor," Scott says. "You can try to pretend all you want, but I'm not. I have some decent paramedic skills, but I was not about to try to explain to your father that you kicked off because I thought I could handle this."

Stiles sulks. "Stealing that stuff from the hospital was a lot of work."

"Yeah, and you were really sick," Scott says.

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that – "

"Stiles," Scott interrupts, "you were crying for your _mother_."

There's a long silence.

"Shit, really?" Stiles says. He searches his memory for this. There's absolutely nothing there. Pretty much everything after Kali yielded the fight is a big fuzzy splotch in his memory. Parts of it are clearer than others, but he definitely does not remember that. "Shit."

"Yeah," Scott says.

"Even so," Stiles just has to argue, "it's not like treating wolfsbane poisoning is that hard, you just give medicine to stabilize the heart rate and flush the system with saline, I wrote directions and everything."

There's a pause while Scott looks at the ceiling, obviously praying for patience. "Stiles," he says again, "someone had to put a tube up your dick. Would you rather that have been me? Or a medical professional?"

Stiles grimaces. "I, uh, I didn't think of that – "

"No! Of course you didn't! Because you are not a trained medical professional and so you don't even know what a saline flush actually _means_, yet you seem to hold this bizarre belief that twenty minutes on Wikipedia gives you a medical degree. Shut the fuck up and be glad you're alive, you crazy bastard!"

"Okay, okay!" Stiles tries to raise his arms in surrender. They flop around a bit, and he glares at them. "I'm sorry I put you guys through that."

Scott huffs out a sigh. "Thank you."

"So, uh, how long has it been?" Stiles looks around. There's a clock on the wall that reads that it's about two thirty, but that could mean anything. He had gotten back to Beacon Hills around four PM, and it had been nearly sunset by the time he confronted Kali. He's hoping that it's the middle of the night, not the middle of the next day.

Scott also glances at the clock. "About, I don't know, five hours?" he says, and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. "The others are all sleeping in the lobby. My mom wouldn't let us all stay in the room because the doctors needed to be able to, you know, get to you. So we've been taking it in shifts. Except for Derek; he's not moving."

"Where's my dad?" Stiles asks, with a wince. He doesn't exactly want to face his father after the events of the past twenty-four hours, but he desperately wants to see him after the hallucinations.

"He was actually here until about fifteen minutes ago," Scott says. "Then he got a call about . . . well, about a body being found in the woods."

"Déjà vu all over again," Stiles says. "Any idea whose?" he adds, hoping that it's Kali.

"I can wager a guess or two," Scott says. "After Kali ran off, Justin and Yasmin went after her. But only a minute later, we started hearing gunshots. Looks like Vivien and Tyrone were waiting for their chance. So either they shot one of the alpha pack . . ."

"Or the alpha pack found one of them," Stiles concludes. "I would not have wanted to get between Justin and a hunter after what happened."

"Me neither," Scott agrees. "But, well, we didn't really care who was killing who as long as no one was shooting at _us_, and Ravinder and Mei said they would cover our exit so we could get you to the hospital." He shrugs a little at Stiles' obvious surprise and says, "I think that as far as they're concerned, you've passed. That means you're one of them, and deserving of their help."

"That or they just really enjoyed watching me kick the shit out of Kali," Stiles says.

Scott grins a little. "Yeah, maybe."

"So . . . how much trouble am I in?" Stiles asks.

Another sigh, more of a huff. "With us? Not too much. To be fair, up until 'don't take me to the hospital', it was a pretty decent plan. If you'd actually tried to go head-on against Kali without a trick or two up your sleeve, she would've ripped your face off. So I think we're all pretty much okay with it."

Stiles nods and looks at Derek, winding a hand through the wolf's fur. Most of what he does remember during the hallucinations is how much he freaked out if Derek left. He hopes that the prolonged exposure to wolfsbane hadn't hurt his lupa, but to be fair, Derek looks fine. At his touch, Derek looks up, nudges his nose into Stiles' hand, and then puts his head down again. Stiles takes that as 'you're forgiven'.

"With your dad, however . . ." Scott says.

Stiles winces. "Bad?"

"Oh my God, you should've heard him," Scott says.

"I'm sure I will," Stiles says, with a sigh. "Especially since I'm sure there will be some sort of police report . . . what did you guys tell the doctors?"

"Uh, that you'd been in the woods and we heard you shouting, so we went to see what was wrong, and some large animal – wolf, dog, cougar, we couldn't be sure – ran off when we got there."

"Okay," Stiles says. "And . . . I just happened to have poisoned myself with aconite?"

"Uh . . . bath salts, actually," Scott says.

Stiles sits up at this. "You told them I was on _drugs_?"

"Dude, what the fuck was I _supposed_ to tell them?"

"You were supposed to not take me to the hospital," Stiles reminds him, and then Derek lets out a low growl. "Uh, but, okay. I can see why you did." He clears his throats. "But couldn't it have been a cool drug? Bath salts are so lame."

"Well, to be fair, I didn't say anything. I said I thought you might have gotten a batch of Adderall cut with something – "

"I never buy my Adderall on the street, you dick, I'm so much smarter than that – "

"I know that, you doctor-shop, which is really not any more responsible, by the way, but _they_ don't know that. I had to tell them something. I said as little as possible, just that you were hallucinating and had a rapid heart rate and I wasn't sure why. They're the ones who had the theory about bath salts. When your tox screen comes back – "

"They did a _tox screen_ on me? I am never getting into college now – "

"It'll come back negative and you'll just be a medical mystery and nobody will really care why because you will have made a full recovery, they'll probably give you a referral to neurology because of the altered mental status that we can just ignore, now shut the fuck up, you asshole."

Stiles shuts up, pouting again. Derek growls at him. He growls back. Derek sits up abruptly and puts a paw over Stiles' mouth.

"Right, then," Scott says. "I'm going to go let my mom know you're awake so the doctor can take a look at you, and tell the others that you're okay." He gives a brief glance at Allison sleeping in the second bed, and seemingly decides to let her sleep, since he exits the room.

Stiles flops back against the cushion. "I have a tube up my dick," he says to the ceiling.

Derek lets out a snort, more of a sneeze, that clearly conveys that his opinion on the matter is that Stiles deserves it.

The doctor comes in, then, a different one than he saw during the winter. He checks Stiles' reflexes and asks questions about who the president is. Then he asks Stiles what he took. Stiles decides that denial is the best refuge right now, and so he swears he didn't take anything besides his Adderall, which he got from a regular pharmacy. It's a pretty safe bet that the doctor doesn't believe him, but just like Scott had said, since he's doing better they don't worry about it. They proclaim him cured through the miracle of modern medicine, tell him to get some more sleep, and they'll think about discharging him in the morning.

Before he can sleep, all of his wolves have to come in and check on him. There's cheek rubbing and hand squeezing and Stiles protesting that he's maybe still a little radioactive and they shouldn't get too close. Allison wakes up when the others come in and joins in the snuggling. Stiles is enjoying it, to the point that he almost doesn't notice when his dad comes in. Then he does. Scott ushers the rest of the wolves out of the room, closing the door most of the way behind him.

"Hey, Dad," Stiles says, already flinching at that so-not-amused look on his father's face. "Whose body was it?"

Sheriff Stilinski's jaw sets in an unhappy frown. "We don't have a positive identification yet," he says, "but I'm guessing it's Tyrone. Black male, about five eight, dressed in outdoor gear with a hunting rifle."

"Sounds like him," Stiles says. "Animal attack?"

"Yeah. Pretty vicious one, from the looks of it."

"Probably Kali, then," Stiles says, "although I guess it could have been any of them." He wonders briefly if Justin shaking him and demanding the truth had been real, or just another hallucination. He'll have to ask Scott later. "So . . ."

"So, how about you tell me what the hell you think you were doing?" his father asks, and Stiles winces again. "C'mon, kid. Out of all the possible solutions, _that_ is what you decided to do? Poison yourself? You saw 'willingly inject a toxic substance into my veins' and thought _that_ was what should happen?"

"Well, to be fair, it did work," Stiles says.

Stilinski pushes both his hands through his hair. "Yes. Yes, it did. That doesn't change the fact that it was an idiotic idea. And it wasn't your only option. Why didn't you call me? The alpha pack can't hold a bunch of teenagers against their will – "

"Yeah, then I would've gotten my pack but failed the trial," Stiles says. "None of them would have passed me if I'd done that."

"But doing something suicidally insane, that gets you points?" his father asks.

"Apparently, yeah."

"God, Stiles, some days . . ." His father shakes his head, then reaches out and embraces Stiles, nearly dislodging Derek as he pulls his son into a rib-crushing hug. The slashes on his chest sting, but Stiles ignores that in favor of hugging back. "You're going to be the death of me eventually, you know that, right?"

"It'll never happen," Stiles says, comfortably resting into the embrace. "You're way too tough for that."

Stilinski lets out a snort which is almost, _almost_ a laugh. "Okay. You get some rest. I have some paperwork to do. Shouldn't take long – just an animal attack, you know. I'll turn it over to Fish and Game, who won't find anything. I'll come by first thing in the morning to pick you up. The doctor told me he thinks you'll be stable for discharge then."

"Okay," Stiles says.

"Oh, and then," his father says, "we're going to have a very stern talk about drugs."

Stiles makes a face at him. "I'm going to make Scott pay for telling them that."

His father departs without another word, and Stiles lets out a sigh. The changing of the wolf guard occurs, so it's Lydia and Erica who are now dozing on the second bed in the room. According to Scott, his mother pulled some strings to get him in an unoccupied room (officially, because his hallucinations might be exacerbated by strangers), so there's room for more visitors.

He's almost drifted off to sleep when his phone starts making the jingly text message noise. He sits up and looks around for it.

"Pick up that phone and I will take your hand off at the wrist," Lydia says. She reaches over and takes the phone off the little table. Erica leans over her shoulder and they read the message together. "Hm," Lydia says. Derek lifts his head and looks over at them.

"Hm, what?" Stiles asks.

"It's nothing," Lydia says.

Stiles gives her a look. "Don't make me pull rank on you."

Both girls exchange a look. Lydia seems to be considering keeping quiet, but Erica isn't up to disobeying a direct order from her alpha, and they both know it. So there's no point in forcing the issue. "It's from Kali," Lydia says. "She says that you need to be at the Hale house in an hour to receive her verdict."

Derek lets out a low growl. Stiles groans. He can't help it. It's the middle of the night. He just wants to fucking _sleep_. "Okay," he says, and pushes the blankets back. Derek's growl intensifies in both tone and volume. He sounds like a small chainsaw. "Down, Fido," Stiles says. "We both know what a catastrophe it'll be if I don't show up."

"Stiles, you can't just walk out of the hospital," Erica protests.

Stiles frowns. He knows that she's right about that. The instant his monitors stop giving readings, every nurse on the floor will be in the room (and that's nothing to say of the fact that he still has a tube in an unpleasant location). "We need a diversion," he says. "Erica, go pull the fire alarm."

"Up your hole with a ten-foot pole, Stiles; I'm not doing that," Erica retorts.

Stiles sighs. "What floor are we on? Please tell me the first."

"Fourth," Lydia says.

"Great. Derek, you'll have to be all parkour werewolf and carry me down. Lydia, go tell the others we're leaving and bring the car right around underneath my window. And give me my freakin' phone."

Nobody is very happy with this. Lydia says, "Stiles, we don't need to go receive her verdict. The alpha pack isn't even going to keep her as their leader, not after they found out she got Trevor killed to steal his spot – "

"We don't know that," Stiles says, "and this show isn't over until the fat lady sings." He thinks about pointing out that the fact that he suspected Kali would pull something like this is half the reason why he didn't want to be in the hospital in the first place. Then he thinks better of the idea and just says, "Go get the car."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

There is growling and muttering, but eventually the girls obey. Stiles looks down at his phone and thinks that he is probably going to traumatize himself by Googling 'how to remove a catheter,' but he doesn't dare do it without _some_ kind of confirmation that he can just pull the damned thing out. YouTube links come up. He grimaces. "Derek, go away."

Derek growls at him.

"Derek," Stiles says, trying to be patient, "you do not want to see this. I do not want you to see this. We have to be able to look each other in the eye tomorrow, so for the love of all that's holy, just go away for a minute."

Derek climbs off the bed, still growling, and shifts back to his human form. He goes into the bathroom to dress while Stiles follows the directions. It's not a comfortable procedure, but it works. Then he sends Derek to get Scott, who detaches the IV but leaves the port in, taping it down. Stiles shimmies into his pants. His shirt never made it to the hospital, because they had more important things to do than grab his stuff. He hopes that his chain mail and his gun are okay. "How fast will they come in here?" he asks.

"We'll have a few minutes," Scott says.

"Really?" Stiles asks, startled. "That long?"

"Monitors that send an alarm to the nurse's station are only in the ICU and the cardiac unit," Scott says. "Here, they'll only notice you're gone when they come in to do their vitals check, which they've been doing every fifteen minutes."

"Cool," Stiles says, much relieved that he's not going to have to evade a nurse with a crash cart.

"Ready?" Scott asks him.

Stiles looks over at Derek, who glances out the window and nods to confirm that the car is there. "Ready," he says, and Scott reaches out and turns the monitor off, then starts pulling the sensors off his skin. A minute or two later, Derek has scooped him up and they're out the window. It's a bit harrowing, but they make it down to the car okay.

"My mom is gonna kill me," Scott says glumly, as they speed away in the Jeep.

"Well, text her to let her know we've gone," Stiles says. "She'll be pissed as all get out, but less pissed than if she finds out I left when she hears the uproar."

"Fair enough," Scott says, and starts texting. Stiles pulls out his phone and texts his dad, too, saying 'when the hospital calls saying I've disappeared, don't worry, I'm ok'. Since that text is sure to send his father into apoplexy, he adds, 'turning my phone off now, will call later, love you bye'. Then he turns the phone off and tucks it into the pocket of his jeans.

"Oh my God," Allison says, "my dad has texted me like eighteen times this evening. He _hates_ texting."

"Maybe you should answer the phone when he calls," Stiles says, "and spare the poor man his dignity. What does he want?"

"A million things," Allison says. "He wants to know that I'm okay. He heard about Tyrone being killed. He got the ballistics report from your dad and something in it pissed him off, I don't even know what. Now he's just texting me every hour, on the hour, to let me know how long I'm grounded. We're up to my eighteenth birthday now. Oh, look, a new text saying Ms. McCall called him and he knows we left the hospital, and wants to know what's going on. Lovely."

Stiles' lips twitch. "Mad respect," he says. "Maybe you should tell him what's going on."

"Oh, sure," Allison says, rolling her eyes. "That sounds like a great idea. He'll show up at the Hale house loaded for bear."

"Loaded for werewolf," Stiles says, and lets out a quiet snicker. The other three give him a look which clearly indicates that they would be beating the shit out of him if he weren't already injured.

In the other car, Lydia, Erica, and Isaac have made a detour, so when Stiles and the others get to the Hale house, they're greeted by a lawn chair and a blanket. Stiles gives them a look and says, "Seriously?"

"Sit in the fucking chair," Derek says, between clenched teeth.

Stiles sits. He even lets them spread the blanket over his legs. It's chilly, almost an hour before dawn, although the sky is starting to lighten in the east, and windy too.

There's some rustling in the trees and the six members of the alpha pack, less Kali, step into sight. None of them look particularly happy to be there, even less so when Derek immediately starts snarling at them. "What the fuck is wrong with you assholes, demanding we show up here – "

Justin lifts his hands in surrender. "It wasn't us. We found out about this the same time that you did." He takes out his phone and taps the screen a couple times, then holds it up to display. Derek doesn't want to go anywhere near him, and Scott is hovering over Stiles, so it's Lydia who walks over to look at it.

"'Get your asses to the Hale house. We're done here,'" she reads aloud.

"What a charmer," Stiles says, rolling his eyes.

"She's lucky I saw the damned message," Justin says. "I was asleep. The twins woke me when my phone went off. They were on watch."

"That bad, huh?" Stiles says. "Who killed Tyrone?"

"That black guy?" Justin asks. "I did." His face twists into a scowl that looks out of place on his typically good-natured features. "He went after Yas."

"Got it," Stiles says. He can definitely understand that, especially given the fact that this had happened just after their discussion about Trevor. That reminds him of something. He frowns and says, "Hey, after my fight with Kali, did you start shaking me and demanding answers?"

"What? No," Justin says. "I was in the forest, chasing after Kali."

"Damn," Stiles says. "Those were some vivid hallucinations I had."

Scott cuffs him over the top of the head. "Shut up," he says.

"If you're offering explanations, though . . ." Justin says.

"I'm not," Stiles says. "But you can ask Ravinder."

Justin rounds on Ravinder with his fists clenched at his sides, and Ravinder actually flinches away. It's clear who's in charge of the alpha pack now, and nobody is trying to contest Justin's claim. "You _knew_?" he snarls.

"Yes," Ravinder says quietly. "I was the one who found his body that day. I checked to see if his medication was on him, and it wasn't. Kali must have taken it from his jacket pocket earlier that day."

"And you just never said anything?" Mei asks incredulously.

"Let me guess," Justin says, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You didn't want to take sides."

"No!" Ravinder snaps. "I didn't say anything because I was afraid. Is that so difficult to believe?"

Justin seems taken aback by this response. Then, surprising everyone, he reaches out and rubs his hand over Ravinder's hair. It's a gesture that seems a little odd when done to someone so much older, but from a pack leader to his subordinate, it's perfectly normal. Stiles has seen Derek do it to Erica and Isaac dozens of times, sometimes even to Scott. It's a gesture designed to comfort, to forgive, to offer protection.

"Awww, isn't that sweet," Kali's voice says, and she emerges from the Hale house itself, which makes Derek curl his lip in a snarl. "But I'm still in charge of this pack, I would like to remind you, and we have business to attend to."

Justin opens his mouth to say something, but then apparently decides against it. Stiles' pack immediately clusters around him protectively, and he can't really argue, circumstances being what they are. He doesn't really feel well, and he suspects that it's partly because he's no longer getting the saline to flush out his system and dilute the poison. The dose he took was less than twelve hours ago; there's still plenty of it in his body.

Kali doesn't seem to care what his pack does. She just gives Stiles a vicious smile and says, "I'm sure you know what I'm going to say."

"What can I say?" Stiles replies. "I'm a God damned genius like that."

"A genius probably wouldn't have failed his alpha trial," Kali retorts.

Stiles wants to freak out. It's not like he didn't see it coming, because he did. He saw it coming a mile away. It was like being tied to a train track, watching the engine barrel towards you. He feels frustration start to boil over, because it's not _fair_, because life isn't fair and that's _stupid_. He wants to scream and rage and yell and throw things. But he doesn't, because he's going to handle this, somehow. They may all die in his attempt, but at least he's going to make that attempt.

So he clears his throat, looks up at Kali from his idiotic lawn chair, and says, "Which of the tasks did I fail?"

"That's not what it's about," Kali says, her tone haughty. "You completed the tasks, but you didn't do it the way you should've. Using silver and cell phones and wolfsbane – " She folds her arms over her chest and gives him a look of complete triumph. "You don't comport yourself as a wolf, and therefore you cannot be an alpha."

"Wow, comport," Stiles says. "That's a big word for a petty bitch like you."

"Insult me all you want," Kali says. "It doesn't matter now. The punishment for failing a trial is execution, of course – " No sooner has the first syllable of the word 'execution' left her mouth, but all of Stiles' pack has shifted into their partial forms, and their circle is tightening around him protectively. Kali just smirks at them. "And if your pack wants to go with you, that's fine by me."

She takes a step forward. Derek lets out a low growl. "You can't take us all."

"I don't have to," she says. "There's one for each of us."

It's so similar to what Stiles said at the beginning of this that he laughs. The noise he makes sounds more like he was kicked in the stomach, but it's there. "Is there?" he asks, and raises his eyes to her in direct challenge.

"No," Justin says.

Kali half-turns and blinks at her. "No?" she asks, stunned. Stiles is a little impressed by the depth of her sociopathy. She's honestly surprised that Justin is challenging her. It's as if, in her head, it couldn't possibly happen. Even after Justin and the other alphas found out what she had done, she still expected them to respect her authority as pack leader.

"No." Justin looks at Yasmin. "No?"

"No," she confirms.

Mei purses her lips. "I'm afraid I agree with Justin and Yasmin," she says. "I don't believe your judgment is correct in this case, Kali."

Kali growls at them. "My judgment isn't yours to question. I'm the leader of this damned pack, and the decision is mine and only mine!"

"Yeah, but . . ." Ethan trails off. The twins don't seem to be sure what to make of the situation at all, so they decide to stick to the matter at hand: the reasons why they don't think Stiles should fail. They're comfortable challenging her on that score, even if they don't know what to do with everything else that's happened. "Kali, you've passed wolves that have done worse on the trials than he has. Actually, if we're gonna be honest, he's one of the better alphas we've seen."

"You could at least put him on probation or something instead of going straight to execution," Aiden agrees.

"Shut up!" Kali screams. "He fails because I say he does! It's my decision!"

"It is," Ravinder agrees. His voice is quiet, but carries well in the still pre-dawn air. "But you will get no help from us. We have the right to withdraw our support with unanimous agreement . . . and I'm afraid it is unanimous, Kali. You have allowed your personal feelings to interfere with your judgment. So yes, the decision is yours. And you alone will carry it out . . . if you can."

Kali looks around at them. "You . . . you can't . . ." With a strangled snarl, she turns around and takes a step towards Stiles. She's barely moved when there's a twang and then an arrow is lodged in the ground beside her foot.

"Make one more move," Allison says. She already has another arrow nocked. "The next one will go through your eye."

"Bitch!" Kali screams. "None of you are really wolves! None of you deserve this territory!"

Derek steps forward with a growl. "This territory has been in my family for hundreds of years."

"Careful, Derek," Scott says. "If you kill her, you'll be an alpha."

"Yeah, we don't want that," Lydia agrees. "We'd have to go through this damned trial all over again."

"No," Derek says, "we won't." He looks squarely at Kali and says, "She's been rejected by her pack."

"Shut up!" she snarls, and her eyes flare red . . . and then change to gold . . . and then the glow fades away altogether. She stands in stunned silence.

"You're omega now," Derek says. "You have no power here."

Kali's face contorts into an expression of bitter rage, and she lunges forward, shifting as she goes, although her eyes remain dark, and she goes right for Derek's throat, howling, out of control.

Several things happen at once.

Stiles sees it coming, he _feels_ it coming, and he reaches out one hand as he makes a noise of wordless protest.

Derek leaps forward to meet Kali's charge head-on.

There's the sharp crack of a gunshot.

Stiles sees the two of them go down in a heap and he throws himself forward, but it doesn't do him any good. His legs are as wobbly as a newborn kitten's, and all he does is wind up face-first in a pile of dirt and leaves. Moments later, he's pressed into them even more firmly as Scott and Erica throw themselves on top of him, shielding his body with their own. Allison stands over them protectively, covering them with her bow. The other wolves, his own included, have vanished into the forest, hunting Vivien. None of this matters to Stiles, none of it at all, because he smells blood. "Derek!" he screams, trying to claw his way out from underneath Scott and Erica. "_Derek!_"

"I'm okay," Derek coughs out.

"You're not hit?" Stiles demands, still trying to get up.

"I'm not hit," Derek confirms. Scott has gotten off Stiles at this point, and half-carries, half-drags the other teenager over to Derek. Stiles presses his face into Derek's neck, feels the beat of Derek's pulse against his cheek, steady and reassuring.

Kali scrambles up to her knees. For a moment, it looks like she might attack again. But when she moves forward, she lets out a sharp gasp of pain and folds in half. She presses both hands to her abdomen, and even in the dim, pre-dawn light, they can see the blood that stains them.

"Kali, you're shot," Stiles says. "We should get the bullet out – "

"Get away from me!" she screams, as Scott reaches for her. "Don't fucking touch me!"

"Kali!" Ethan and Aiden hurry over, one of them trying to help brace her. "You're not an alpha anymore, you can't handle the same amount of damage – "

"Get the fuck away!" Kali staggers to her feet. Stiles can see blood trickling down her chin.

"Kali, we can help you," he says. The other wolves are gathering now, having come back from their foray into the woods. Justin looks down at them with an impassive expression on his face. He's not arguing with Stiles' offer to help Kali, but he isn't trying to aid them, either.

"I don't need your fucking help, you son of a bitch!"

There's a snarling noise to their left, and Ravinder emerges from the forest, dragging Vivien with him. She's hurling all sorts of profanities at him, but he's much stronger than he is, and doesn't hesitate for an instant as he throws her down at Justin's feet. Justin's gaze flickers up to Ravinder, who shifts into his wolf form and whines, pressing himself down into the ground.

"An offering made in good faith," Justin agrees. A smile twists his lips. "You're forgiven."

But before Justin can do anything, Kali lunges forward as Vivien tries to climb to her feet, catching her in a full tackle. The two of them go down in a heap, rolling several feet away. Vivien manages to squirm free and get to her feet, grabbing her gun and leveling another two shots at Kali. One of them clips her in the shoulder, but the other misses. It doesn't slow Kali down for an instant; she just charges into another attack. Vivien screams as Kali's jaws sink into her throat.

Stiles looks around wildly, thinking that maybe they should have done something, tried to stop her, but everything happened so quickly, there was really no time. Even if he had wanted to, Derek's got both arms around him, pinning him firmly against the other man's chest and sheltering him from anything that might try to hurt him, including himself. As for the other wolves, none of them are particularly interested in getting in Kali's way just to save a woman who tried to kill them.

Kali drops Vivien to the ground. The hunter shudders once as blood gushes from her throat, and then goes still. Then Kali turns to the others, her mouth and chin smeared crimson, and screams defiantly. "I can take any of you assholes! I'll kill you all! I won't stop until every one of you is – "

And then there are two more gunshots.

Kali looks down. Her mouth makes a little 'o' of surprise. Stiles can see the two splotches of red on her shirt, perfectly centered over her heart. Excellent marksmanship. She goes to her knees, then falls face first into the dirt.

Everyone just stands in stunned silence for a moment. Then Scott kneels beside her and turns her over. Her eyes stare up at the sky, that faintly confused expression still on her face. "She's dead," he says, and looks up at Stiles as if wondering what to do.

"But who – the hunters are all dead or in jail – " Derek begins.

"No, they aren't," Stiles says. "There's still one left."

He looks up in the direction that the gunshots had come from, and gives a nod of greeting as Chris Argent emerges from the trees.

"Dad!" Allison says, and throws herself at her father. He catches her around the waist and gives her a tight hug.

The alphas are snarling, but Stiles shakes his head at them. "It's okay," he says. He looks at Chris and says, "Thanks. For . . . taking that decision from me."

"It's what I do," Chris says. "She was a monster."

Stiles nods and leans against Derek. "I notice you didn't intervene until after she'd killed Vivien, though," he says. Chris narrows his eyes. "You must've really not liked that ballistics report you got from my dad. I take it the gun that shot Allison did not, in fact, belong to any of the men in jail?"

"Something like that." Chris looks down at Vivien's body. "She was very particular about her firearms."

"I bet," Stiles says. He's suddenly exhausted.

"C'mon," Scott says. "Stiles, we need to get you back to the hospital."

Stiles nods and tries to stand, but his legs have gone numb again and he can't get them sorted out. Scott lifts him to his feet and gets him onto Derek's back. Justin watches this process with some interest, and shakes his head a little bit. "You are one hardcore mofo, you know that, Stiles?" he says, as Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's shoulders and pretends he can grip. "You know, the alpha pack is down a member . . ."

"If you try to invite me into your pack . . ." Stiles has to pause to think of a suitable threat. Nothing comes to mind, so he mumbles, "I will puke on your shoes."

Justin laughs. He slings an arm around Yasmin's shoulder and says, "We're out. Later."

The alpha pack turns and begins to walk away. Ravinder pauses long enough to give another half-bow to Stiles' pack, before following them.

"You'll take care of this?" Stiles asks Chris. He gives another nod, and two of his men come out of the woods, carrying some gear. Stiles doesn't question. This is what Chris does. "Thanks," he says again. He leans his cheek against Derek's shoulder and closes his eyes. It's been a long week.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: I have had so much fun writing this! Y'all are a wonderful audience and I've appreciated everything! Hope you've had as much fun as I have. ^_^_

* * *

Epilogue

Stiles eyes' are fixed on the clock in his hospital room, watching every second tick by. He's annoyed, just in a general sort of way, because five o'clock is not anywhere near close enough. His little foray into the woods had cost him an extra day in the hospital – not because he actually hurt himself, but because by the time everything was settled, the doctor taking care of him had gone off shift.

Despite voluble protests from, well, everybody, Stiles had decided to go back to the hospital in the same way he had left. Derek had carried him back up and through the window. He had gotten settled into the bed. Scott had hooked up the IV and reattached all the sensors before turning the monitors back on. "Your heart rate is a little high, but steady," he had said.

Ten minutes later, one of the nurses going by had seen that Stiles was back. A predictable kerfluffle had followed. Stiles had allowed them to fuss over him, and had explained his not-so-dramatic return with, "Yeah, my dad called me and told me to get my ass back to the hospital." It's a fair bet that everyone involved knew that there was more going on than he had said, but fortunately nobody pushes the issue. He's pretty sure that they're now more convinced than ever that he's on drugs, despite his negative tox screen, and was trying to avoid trouble.

He's also sure that they _could_ have found another doctor who could discharge him, but nobody's discussing that possibility. If this is his punishment, he'll accept it. But he's going out of his mind with boredom. The nurses wouldn't let him take his Adderall because of God-knew-what-else was in his system, so he's been three quarters insane all day.

This isn't to say that it hasn't been an interesting day. He's certainly had his share of visitors.

Justin and Ravinder turned up at about half past noon. How they got past the nurses, Stiles does not know, and he didn't ask. "We just thought we'd let you know we're on our way out of town," Justin said. "So you don't have to worry about us lurking."

"'Preciate it," Stiles said.

Justin nodded a little. "Thanks. For . . . everything, I guess."

Stiles gave a shrug. "I owed you a little, so I guess it all evens out."

Justin looked at where Derek was curled up on the foot of the bed, back in the ridiculous blue vest. His chin was resting on Stiles' thigh. "Got it all worked out, then?" he said.

"Yeah," Stiles said. "We're cool."

"If you have more questions about wolf stuff . . . well, you've got my number," Justin said. "I'll see you around."

He turned and left then. Ravinder gave Stiles a nod and said, "I hope the next time we meet, it will be under better circumstances." He pressed his hands together and gave that little half bow. "Namaste."

Stiles returned the gesture, a little clumsily, but got the idea across, and then waved as the two of them left the room. He collapsed back against the pillows and gave a little sigh.

His father had been in and out all morning, updating him on what was going on. No bodies have been found in the woods, and they were far enough away from civilization that nobody called the police about the gunshots. Presumably, Chris has taken care of everything on his end, and Stiles isn't particularly worried about it. But when his father came in around two, he sat down and gave Stiles a serious look.

"Son," he said, and Stiles groaned, "I've been thinking about your punishment."

"Oh boy," Stiles said. Derek looked up, made a little chuffing noise, and then appeared to go back to sleep.

"See, I have a problem," Sheriff Stilinski said. "Pretty much any punishment I can give you is either cruel and unusual due to your . . . peculiar circumstances . . . or it's self-punishing. I can't ground you, because the rest of the pack would freak out, and although I'm not exactly pleased with them for aiding and abetting your little escape plan, it's not their fault that you took wolfsbane. I can't take your phone because then I won't know where you are or be able to call and check in with you. I can't take your computer because then your ADD would drive all of us crazy. I've considered just taping your mouth shut with duct tape, but I'm pretty sure that would be considered child abuse."

"Man, I can see your dilemma," Stiles said. "I guess you just won't be able to punish me."

His father nodded solemnly. "In fact," he said, "I intend to take you out to dinner."

Stiles blinked. He sensed a trap. "Dinner . . .?"

"Yes," his father said. "How about the Outback Steakhouse? I haven't had their cheese fries in a long time."

"Dad!" Stiles protested. "You can't eat those!"

"Yes," Stilinski said. "Yes, I can. You are going to sit and _watch_ me eat an entire plate of those amazing, wonderful, marvelous creations. And you will not say _one word_ about my cholesterol the entire time. Because if you _do_, we will repeat the exercise."

"But Dad – "

"No buts!" his father said. "If you willingly put poison in your body and worry the Christ out of everyone you know, I get to do the same."

Stiles just stared at him, his mouth moving soundlessly. Derek made another chuffing noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"Right, then," Stilinski said, and gave Stiles' a clap on the shoulder. "The doctor's going to call me when they're ready to discharge you so I can come pick you up. Until then, sit here and think about what you've done."

"Aw, man," Stiles whined, and then his father was gone.

So now he's just sitting in bed, staring at the clock, waiting desperately for it to be five o'clock so the doctor who admitted him will come back on shift and he can get the hell out of the hospital. It's a beautiful day outside. He feels much better. He needs to get gone.

It seems like an eternity before the man comes in, checks over all his vitals, asks him a million questions, suspiciously eyes his 'emotional support dog' ("he looks more like a wolf" "well, he's a hybrid") and then decides that Stiles is safe to discharge. Sheriff Stilinski comes back to sign some papers, and then he's free.

"Are you still working?" he asks his father, as he's wheeled out of the hospital.

"Just a few things left to wrap up," Stilinski says. "I trust Derek and Scott to get you home safe and make sure that you don't do anything strenuous."

"Or anything at all," Stiles mutters. "Okay. See you later, then."

His father gives him another one of those rib-crushing hugs and then waves as he heads towards his cruiser. The nurse takes the wheelchair back. The rest of the pack is waiting in the parking lot, and they greet him with more hugs and cheek rubs and fist bumps.

"So, what's going on this summer?" Erica asks, twining her fingers through Stiles' as they walk through the parking lot, and it's a complete moment of déjà vu. He blinks over at her, and she just grins at him. After a moment, he grins back.

"Got to enjoy these stormy days of youth," he responds, and several of the others let out a snort of laughter.

"My goal for this summer is to seduce Lydia," Erica says, and Stiles trips over thin air and nearly falls face-first onto the pavement. Derek grabs him by the back of the shirt and tugs him upright.

"Start by taking me shopping," Lydia advises.

"How come you never try to seduce me?" Isaac asks, coming up on Erica's right and taking her other hand.

Erica laughs at him. "Oh, well, I figured after what happened during my second full moon . . ."

"Hey!" Isaac flushes red all the way up to the tips of his ears. "You promised you would never mention that again!"

"Wait, is there a story here?" Scott asks. "I want to hear this story . . ."

"No! There is no story!" Isaac says.

Nobody believes him, but he's saved when Allison's phone beeps. She looks at the screen and groans. "My dad wants me home tonight."

Stiles holds out a hand for the phone, and she yields it with good grace. He looks at the message, then begins to type back. 'Mr. Argent, this is Stiles. I would appreciate it if Allison could stay at my place tonight, since it's my first night out of the hospital. We'll return her safe and sound tomorrow morning, if that's okay with you.' He hits send and waits, saying to the others, "Your dad's going to be kind of famous now, isn't he? Once word gets around that he took out the head of the alpha pack."

"Yeah, I guess so," Allison says.

Her phone beeps again, and Stiles looks down at the screen. At first Chris just sends back, 'ok'. Then, about ten seconds later, he receives another text. 'My wife wants the recipe to that peach pie you made.'

Stiles grins at the phone and sends back, 'No problem.' Then he hands Allison's phone back to her. "So, you know what we should do tomorrow?"

"What should we do tomorrow?" Derek asks, looping an arm around his waist.

"We should go ice skating," Stiles says. "Go hang out with Boyd."

"Good idea," Erica says. "You'll like him. I promise."

Derek lets out a sigh. "Well," he says, "at least this summer won't be boring."

~fin~


End file.
